‘I’ll tell you about that presently. We got to the house, and went in, and she took me upstairs to her own private sitting-room, where the table was laid for two. She said that she usually had her meals with the other people, but it would be better for us to be alone, so that we could talk.’ ‘How did she know where to find you?’ Nancy inquired. ‘Of course I wondered about that, but I didn’t like to ask. Well, she went away for a few minutes, and then we had lunch. Everything was A-1 of course; first-rate wines to choose from, and a rattling good cigar afterwards--for me, I mean. She brought out a box; said they were her husband’s, and had a laugh about it.’ ‘How long has she been a widow?’ asked Nancy. ‘I don’t know. She didn’t wear colours, I noticed; perhaps it was a fashionable sort of mourning. We talked about all sorts of things; I soon made myself quite at home. And at last she began to explain. She was a friend of mother’s, years and years ago, and father was the cause of their parting, a quarrel about something, she didn’t say exactly what. And it had suddenly struck her that she would like to know how we were getting on. Then she asked me to promise that I would tell no one.’ ‘She knew about mother’s death, I suppose?’ ‘Oh yes, she knew about that. It happened not very long after the affair that parted them. She asked a good many questions about you. And she wanted to know how father had got on in his business.’ ‘What did you say?’ ‘Oh, I told her I really didn’t know much about it, and she laughed at that.’ ‘How long did you stay there?’ ‘Till about four. But there’s something else. Before I went away she gave me an invitation for next Saturday. She wants me to meet her at Portland Road Station, and go out to Richmond, and have dinner there.’ ‘Shall you go?’ ‘Well, it’s very awkward. I want to go somewhere else on Saturday, with Fanny. But I didn’t see how to refuse.’ Nancy wore a look of grave reflection, and kept silence. ‘It isn’t a bad thing, you know,’ pursued her brother, ‘to have a friend of that sort. There’s no knowing what use she might be, especially just now.’ His tone caused Nancy to look up. ‘Why just now?’ ‘I’ll tell you after I’ve had a talk with father to-night,’ Horace replied, setting his countenance to a show of energetic resolve. ‘Shall I guess what you’re going to talk about?’ ‘If you like.’ She gazed at him. ‘You’re surely not so silly as to tell father about all that nonsense?’ ‘What nonsense?’ exclaimed the other indignantly. ‘Why, with Fanny French.’ ‘You’ll find that it’s anything but nonsense,’ Horace replied, raising his brows, and gazing straight before him, with expanded nostrils. ‘All right. Let me know the result. It’s time to go in.’ Horace sat alone for a minute or two, his legs at full length, his feet crossed, and the upper part of his body bent forward. He smiled to himself, a smile of singular fatuity, and began to hum a popular tune. CHAPTER 5