He held himself upright and talked and laughed perhaps
louder than an elderly gentleman should. "Swaggering old beggar," he
must have overheard a young sub. mutter as they passed. But he did not
seem to mind it.
They lingered over the meal. Folk was a brilliant talker. Most of the
men whose names were filling the newspapers had sat to him at one time or
another. He made them seem quite human. Joan was surprised at the time.
"Come up to my rooms, will you?" he asked. "There's something I want to
say to you. And then I'll walk back with you." She was staying at a
small hotel off Jermyn Street.
He sat her down by the fire and went into the next room. He had a letter
in his hand when he returned. Joan noticed that the envelope was written
upon across the corner, but she was not near enough to distinguish the
handwriting. He placed it on the mantelpiece and sat down opposite her.
"So you have come to love the dear old chap," he said.
"I have always loved him," Joan answered. "It was he didn't love me, for
a time, as I thought. But I know now that he does.
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