"Then why can't two honourable, loyal people meet? We only need meet
once. But I want to tell you things I can't write--things I can't
say here. I also want to hear of things. I think I've got a kind of
claim--haven't I?"
"I've told you, Eleanor. My letters--"
"Letters are rubbish!" she declared with a laugh. "Where can we meet?"
"Agatha is a good soul," said I.
"Well, fix it up by telephone to-morrow."
"Alas!" said I; "I don't run to telephones in my eagle's nest on
Himalaya Mansions."
She knitted her brows. "That's not the last address you wrote from."
"No," I replied, smiling at this glimpse of the matter-of-fact Eleanor.
"It was a joke."
"You're incorrigible!" she said rebukingly.
"I don't joke so well in rags as in silken motley," I returned with a
smile, "but I do my best."
She disdained a retort. "We'll arrange, anyhow, with Agatha."
Campion, escaping from his friends, came up and chatted for a minute.
Then he saw Eleanor and her companion to their carriage.
"Now," said he a moment later, "come to Barbara and have some supper.
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