William
Cecil Wychwood Stanley Drayton," on the occasion of our next
meeting, which happened upon the steps of the Savoy Restaurant, and
I thought--unless a quiver of the electric light deceived me--that
he blushed.
"Charming girl," I said. "You're a lucky dog, Billy."
It was the phrase that custom demands upon such occasions, and it
came of its own accord to my tongue without costing me the trouble
of composition, but he seized upon it as though it had been a gem
of friendly sincerity.
"You will like her even more when you know her better," he said.
"She is so different from the usual woman that one meets. Come and
see her to-morrow afternoon, she will be so pleased. Go about
four, I will tell her to expect you."
I rang the bell at ten minutes past five. Billy was there. She
greeted me with a little tremor of embarrassment, which sat oddly
upon her, but which was not altogether unpleasing. She said it was
kind of me to come so early. I stayed for about half an hour, but
conversation flagged, and some of my cleverest remarks attracted no
attention whatever.
When I rose to take my leave, Billy said that he must be off too,
and that he would accompany me.
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