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"Do you hear, garcon 'nother bottle!" Jimmie looked at him gravely. He had serious misgivings about the future. Many of London's spacious suburbs have the advantage of lying beyond the scope of the fog-breeding smoke which hangs over the great city, and at Strand-on-the-Green, on that 9th of November, the weather was less disagreeable.
That was all. There was no invitation to the house at Strand-on-the-Green no hope or desire for a personal acquaintance. Jack resented the bald, stereotyped communication. He felt piqued slightly hurt. He had been trying to forget the girl, but now, thinking of her as something out of his reach, he wanted to see her again. "A conceited, crusty old chap this Stephen Foster," he said to himself.
In London, Victor Nevill enjoyed life with as much zest as his conscience would permit; Madge Foster dragged through weary days and duller evenings at Strand-on-the-Green; and the editor of the Illustrated Universe wondered what had become of his bright young war-artist since the one brief visit to the office.
He was about off the middle of Strand-on-the-Green, and, glancing around, he saw one of the big Thames excursion steamers, laden with passengers, ploughing up-stream within fifty yards of him, but at a safe distance to his right. The same glimpse revealed a pretty picture midway between himself and the vessel a young girl approaching in a light Canadian canoe.
Sir Lucius and Jack had a long talk about that and other matters, and in the afternoon they went together to the house at Strand-on-the-Green, and left messages of sympathy for Miss Foster; she was too prostrated to see any person, Mrs. Sedgewick informed them. Three days later, after the burial of Stephen Foster, Jack returned alone.
"I used to go to Hampton Court with father on Sundays, but that was long ago; he doesn't take me anywhere now, except to the theatre once or twice a year." "It is a shame," Jack replied indignantly, "when you enjoy things so much." "Oh, but I dearly love Strand-on-the-Green. I am very happy there." "And you never long for a wider life?" "Yes sometimes. I want to go abroad and travel.
He struck down through Gunnersbury, by way of Sutton Court, and came out at the river close to the lower end of Strand-on-the-Green. A girl was sitting on a bench near the shore, pensively watching the sun drooping over the misty ramparts of Kew Bridge; she held a closed book in one hand, and by her side lay a sketching-block and a box of colors.
Oh, please don't think me ungrateful, but but " She turned her head quickly away, and did not finish the sentence. She called a word of farewell over her shoulder, and Jack moodily watched her slim and graceful figure vanish between the great elm trees that guard the lower entrance to Strand-on-the-Green. "John Vernon, you are a fool," he said to himself.
He frankly said as much, to his companion's delight, and then the conversation turned on the quaintness of Strand-on-the-Green, and the constant and varied beauty of the river at this point a subject that was full of genuine interest to both. When the sun passed below the bridge the girl suddenly rose and gathered her things. "I must go," she said. "My father is coming home early to-day.
Victor Nevill spent the afternoon at one of his clubs, where he won pretty heavily at cards and drank rather more brandy than he was accustomed to take. Feeling consequently in good spirits, he determined to carry out a plan that he had been pondering for some time. He left the club at six o'clock, and an hour later a cab put him down at the lower end of Strand-on-the-Green. Mrs.
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