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Updated: June 26, 2025
By the way," he added, after a moment's hesitation, "does it interest you to know that an old friend of yours is in New York?" Tavernake's head went round swiftly. "Who is it?" he asked. "Mrs. Wenham Gardner." Tavernake set his teeth. "No," he said, slowly, "I don't know that that interests me." "Glad of it," Pritchard went on.
There was something amazing about this young man's attitude, something which he could not wholly grasp. He could see, too, that Tavernake's words were so few simply because he was trembling under the influence of an immense passion. "If you won't listen," Pritchard declared, slowly, "I can't talk. Still, you've got common sense, I take it.
Tavernake, father," she remarked, after he had given a somewhat lengthy order to the waiter. "I met and talked with Mr. Tavernake here the other night," the professor admitted, with condescension. "Mr. Tavernake was very good to me at a time when I needed help," Beatrice told him. The professor grasped Tavernake's hands. "You were good to my child," he said, "you were good to me.
With a sudden overpowering impulse he turned and strode down the Strand in the direction where they had vanished. It was too late. There was no sign of them. Tavernake's first impression of Elizabeth was that he had never, even in his wildest thoughts, done her justice. He had never imagined her so wonderfully, so alluringly beautiful.
The presence of another human being seemed suddenly to bring Tavernake's feet back upon the earth. He moved toward the pavement and addressed the newcomer. "Can you tell me how to get inside that house?" he asked quickly. The man removed the cigarette from his mouth and stared at his questioner. "I should ring the bell," he replied, "but surely it's unoccupied?
"On second thoughts, I'll send a tailor round to the hotel," Pritchard declared. "I've rooms myself next yours. We can go out and buy boots and the other things afterwards." By nightfall, Tavernake's wardrobe was complete. Even Pritchard regarded him with a certain surprise. He seemed, somehow, to have gained a new dignity. "Say, but you look great!" he exclaimed.
Pritchard found something almost pathetic in the sudden dropping of Tavernake's voice, the softening of his face. "I don't know how to talk about these things," Tavernake said, simply. "There's a literature that's reached from before the Bible to now, full of nothing else. It's all as old as the hills.
"Good-night, father!" she said. "And to you, sir, also, good-night!" the professor added, taking Tavernake's hand and holding it for a minute in his, while he looked impressively in his face. "I will not say too much, but I will say this: so much as I have seen of you, I like. Good-night!" He turned and strode away. Both Beatrice and Tavernake watched him until he disappeared.
The professor welcomed him a little limply; something of the bombast had gone out of his manner. Tavernake's arrival had reminded him of things which he had only too easily forgotten. "This is very surprising," he faltered, "very surprising indeed. Do you live in these parts?" "Not far away," Tavernake answered. "I saw your announcement in the papers." The professor nodded.
Tavernake stepped quickly forward and then hesitated. The girl was on her feet now and she clutched at his arms. Her eyes besought him. "You must take me away, please," she begged, hoarsely. "I am well now quite well. I can walk." Tavernake's lack of imagination stood him in good stead then. He simply did what he was told, did it in perfectly mechanical fashion, without asking any questions.
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