Boardinghouses -- Juvenile fiction; London (England) -- Juvenile fiction; Love stories; Mothers and daughters -- Juvenile fiction
The cab was not allowed to go up the Row, so I paid my fare at the
entrance, and then walked to my destination. I knew the number well,
for Albert had mentioned it two or three times in my hearing, having
indeed often urged me to go and see him. I stopped therefore at the
right place, looked up, saw the name of Albert Fanning in huge letters
across the window, opened the door and entered. I found myself in a
big, book saloon, and going up to a man asked if Mr. Fanning were in.
The man was one of those smart sort of clerks, who generally know
everybody's business but their own. He looked me all over in a
somewhat quizzical way, and then said--
"Have you an appointment, miss?"
"I have not," I replied.
"Our chief, Mr. Fanning, never sees ladies without appointments."
"I think he will see me," I answered, "he happens to know me. Please
say that Miss Westenra Wickham has called to see him."
The clerk stared at me for a moment.
"Miss West! what Wickham Miss? Perhaps you wouldn't mind writing it
down."
I did not want to write down my name, but I did so; I gave it to the
clerk, who withdrew, smiling to a brother clerk as he did so. He came
back in a minute or two, looking rather red about the face, and went
back to his seat without approaching me, and at the same time I heard
heavy, ungainly steps rushing downstairs, and Mr. Fanning, in his
office coat, which was decidedly shabby, and almost as greasy as the
one which belonged to the "Man in Possession" on the previous evening,
entered the saloon. His hair stood wildly up on his head, and his blue
eyes were full of excitement. He came straight up to me.
"I say, this is a pleasure," he exclaimed, "and quite unlooked for.
Pray, come upstairs at once, Miss Wickham. I am delighted to see
you--delighted. Understand, Parkins," he said, addressing the clerk
who had brought my message, "that I am engaged for the present,
absolutely engaged, and can see _no one_. Now, Miss Wickham, now."
He ushered me as if I were a queen through the saloon, past the
wondering and almost tittering clerks, and up some winding stairs to
his own sanctum on the first floor.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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