Pennycherry.
"I am not so sure," returned the stranger. "I am somewhat suspicious
of you. But wilful woman must, I suppose, have her way."
The stranger held out his hand, and to Mrs. Pennycherry, at that
moment, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to take it as if
it had been the hand of an old friend and to end the interview with a
pleasant laugh--though laughing was an exercise not often indulged in
by Mrs. Pennycherry.
Mary Jane was standing by the window, her hands folded in front of
her, when Mrs. Pennycherry re-entered the kitchen. By standing close
to the window one caught a glimpse of the trees in Bloomsbury Square
and through their bare branches of the sky beyond.
"There's nothing much to do for the next half hour, till Cook comes
back. I'll see to the door if you'd like a run out?" suggested Mrs.
Pennycherry.
"It would be nice," agreed the girl so soon as she had recovered power
of speech; "it's just the time of day I like."
"Don't be longer than the half hour," added Mrs. Pennycherry.
Forty-eight Bloomsbury Square, assembled after dinner in the
drawing-room, discussed the stranger with that freedom and frankness
characteristic of Forty-eight Bloomsbury Square, towards the absent.
"Not what I call a smart young man," was the opinion of Augustus
Longcord, who was something in the City.
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