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Updated: June 22, 2025
The old lady's a bore, but she can be agreeable when she likes; the girl's rather clever does pictures for children's books, you know. She seems to be getting on better lately. But they are wretchedly poor. I was saying to them oh, but that reminds me of something else. You haven't seen the Pomfrets lately?" "No." "Then you don't know that Mr. Elvan's dead?" "No."
With the sentence unfinished, she drew back, and the train rolled away. For a minute or two, Warburton stood on the platform, his lips mechanically prolonging the smile which had answered Miss Elvan's, and his thoughts echoing her last words. When he turned, he at first walked slowly; then his pace quickened, and he arrived at the Pomfrets' house, as though on urgent business.
Lucky you told me not that it matters much," added Franks, after a moment's reflection, "at all events as far as I'm concerned. But it might be a little awkward for her. How long is she staying?" Will told all he knew of Miss Elvan's projects.
That his aspect and demeanour might be in keeping, he bore himself somewhat bluffly, threw out brief, blunt phrases, and met Miss Elvan's glance with a confident smile. No resentment of this behaviour appeared in her look or speech; as the meal went on, she talked more freely, and something of frank curiosity began to reveal itself in her countenance as she listened to him.
So, before going to bed, he posted a reply to Miss Elvan's letter, saying that he should much like a talk with her about the artistic possibilities of obscure London, and that he would walk next day along the Battersea Embankment, with the hope of meeting her. And thus it came to pass.
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