"It ain't no use, my dears," he whispered confidentially. "He's
fairly got the hump. Between you and me he'd give a bit not to have
us, but me and him being old friends - you see, we know a bit about
one another."
"Oh, that's it, is it?" Miss Montressor remarked, with a toss of her
head. "Well, you and your wife and your little chit of a daughter
are welcome to him so far as we are concerned, aren't they, Flossie?"
"Well, I should say so," agreed the young lady, who rather affected
Americanisms.
Da Souza stroked his little imperial, and winked solemnly.
"You are young ladies of spirit," he declared. "Now - "
"Hiram!"
"I am coming, my dear," he called over his shoulder. "One word
more, my charming young friends! No. 7, Racket's Court, City, is
my address. Look in sometime when you're that way, and we'll have
a bit of lunch together, and just at present take my advice. Get
back to London and write him from there. He is not in a good humour
at present."
"We are much obliged, Mr. Da Souza," the young lady answered loftily.
"As we have engagements in London this afternoon, we may as well go
now - eh, Flossie?"
"Right along," answered the young lady, "I'm with you, but as to
writing Mr. Trent, you can tell him from me, Mr.
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