When they came to London, she went at once to
Morgan's to make a deposit, for she had been hard at work
on her jokes as she travelled, and had received her pay.
"Your son, madam," said the clerk, "drew on his account
to-day. He said he expected remittances from you. Is
this to be put to his credit?"
"My son was in London to-day?
"He has just left the house."
"Did he--he left a message for me? A letter, perhaps?"
"No, nothing, madam."
"Put the money to his credit, of course."
She went out into the narrow street and wandered along to
the Bank of England, staring up at the huge buildings.
He had been looking at them--he had walked on this very
pavement a minute ago! That might be the smoke of his
cigar, yonder!
She could easily find him. Just to look at him once; to
hold his hand! He might be ill and need her; he never
was well in foggy weather.
Then she remembered that Lisa was with him. She would
nurse him.
She called a cab, and, as she drove home, looked out at
the crowd with a hard, smiling face.
Henry Irving that night played "Shylock," and Mr. Perry
secured a box for Miss Vance. Frances went with the
others. Before the curtain rose there was a startled
movement among them, a whisper, and then Clara turned to
Mrs. Waldeaux.
"Frances, Lisa is coming into the opposite box," she
said. "She is really a beautiful woman in that
decollete gown, and her cheeks flushed, and her
eyes---- I had no idea! She is superb!"
Two men in the dress of French officers entered the box
with Lisa.
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