They had much to talk about, or rather Miss Prudence had. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. I hope—I am sure that he did not see me. I’m anxious, joyfully anxious, like a man when he has found a treasure. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. E. Better take these sandwiches.
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