"I wonder if she is in New York," Tavernake said, with a strange
thrill at his heart.
Pritchard made no reply. His eyes were fixed upon the little
group at the next table. Elizabeth was leaning back in her
chair. She seemed to have abandoned the conversation. Her eyes
were always seeking Tavernake's. Pritchard rose to his feet
abruptly.
"It's time we were in bed," he declared. "Remember the meeting
to-morrow."
Tavernake rose to his feet. As they passed the next table,
Elizabeth leaned over to him. Her eyes pleaded with his almost
passionately.
"Dear Leonard," she whispered, "you must--you must come and see
me. I shall stay in between four and six every evening this
week. The Delvedere, remember."
"Thank you very much," Tavernake answered. "I shall not forget."
CHAPTER IX
FOR ALWAYS
Once again it seemed to Beatrice that history was repeating
itself. The dingy, oblong dining-room, with its mosquito
netting, stained tablecloth, and hard cane chairs, expanded until
she fancied herself in the drawing-room of Blenheim House.
Between the landladies there was little enough to choose. Mrs.
Raithby Lawrence, notwithstanding her caustic tongue and
suspicious nature, had at least made some pretense at gentility.
The woman who faced her now--hard-featured, with narrow,
suspicious eyes and a mass of florid hair--was unmistakably and
brutally vulgar.
"What's the good of your keeping on saying you hope to get an
engagement next week?" she demanded, with a sneer.
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