And then I
heard a cry which could only be in Vivie's voice--dear old
Viv--(leans forward with shining eyes to press her hand) and ...
there we are. How're the bruises?"
_Vivie_: "Oh, they ache rather, but it is such _joy_ to have such
friends as you and Praddy and Michael Rossiter, that I don't mind
_what_ I go through..."
_Frank_: "But I say, Viv, about this Rossiter man. He seems awfully
gone on you...?"
_Vivie_ (flushing in the firelight): "Does he? It's only friendship.
I really don't see them often but he came to my assistance once at a
critical time. And now that Praddy's all-powerful parlour-maid's
definitely left us, I will tell you _my_ story."
So she does, between five and half-past six, almost without
interruption from the spell-bound Frank--who says it licks any novel
he ever read, and she ought to turn it into a novel--with a happy
ending--or from Praed who is at times a little somnolent. Then at
half-past six, the practical Frank says:
"Look here, you chaps, I could go on listening till midnight, but
what's the matter with a bit of dinner? I dare say Praddy's
parlour-maid might turn sour if we asked her at a moment's notice to
find dinner for three. Why not come out and dine with me at the Hans
Crescent Hotel? Close by. I'll get a quiet table and we can finish
our talk there. To-morrow I must go down to Margate to see the dear
old mater, and it may be a week before I'm up again.
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