“How deuced pretty she is!” he said to himself. “Quite ladylike, by Jove.”

“Come upstairs,” he said, “and tell me all about it.”

He turned and led the way. Without a second thought, Amy followed him. Sarah stood for a moment staring, wondering who the lady could be. “A cousin from Australia,” she concluded. They had cousins there.

Cornelius went into the drawing room, Amy following him, and opened the shutters of a window, congratulating himself on his good luck. Not often did anything so pleasant enter the stupid old place! He made her sit on the sofa in the half dark, sat down beside her, and in a few minutes had all her story. Moved by her sweet bright face and pretty manners, pleased with the deference, amounting to respect, which she showed him, he began to think her the nicest girl he had ever known. After a conversation of about half an hour, she rose.

“What!” said Corney, “you’re not going already, Amy?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Amy. “I think I had better go. I am sorry not to see Miss Raymount. She was very kind to me.”

“You mustn’t go yet,” said Corney. “Sit down and rest a little. Come—you used to like music. I will sing to you and you shall tell me whether I have improved since you heard me last.”

Amy sat down again as he went to the piano and sang her half a dozen songs, then showed her a book of photographs, chiefly portraits of the more famous actresses of the day, and told her about them. He kept her occupied with one thing and another until Sarah grew fidgety and was on the point of stalking up from the kitchen when she heard them coming down.

Cornelius took his hat and stick, and said he would walk with her. Amy made no objection. She was pleased to have his company. He went with her all the way to the lodging she shared with her friend in a quiet little street in Kensington. Before they parted, her manner and behaviour had begun to fill what little there was of Corney’s imagination, and he left her with a feeling that he knew where a treasure lay. He walked with an enlargement of strut as he went home through the park, and swung his cane with the air of a man who had made a conquest of which he had reason to be proud.

16. Waiting a Purpose

—Sixteen —

Waiting a Purpose