"Of course. I suppose you've left your fly in the village, and will be going on from Mezzago by the night train."
"Or stay in Mezzago in an hotel and go on to-morrow. But tell me," he said, gazing at the adorable profile, "about yourself. London has been extraordinarily dull and empty. Lady Droitwich said you were with people here she didn't know. I hope they've been kind to you? You look--well, as if your cure had done everything a cure should."
"They've been very kind," said Scrap. "I got them out of an advertisement."
"An advertisement?"
"It's a good way, I find, to get friends. I'm fonder of one of these than I've been of anybody in years."
"Really? Who is it?"
"You shall guess which of them it is when you see them. Tell me about mother. When did you see her last? We arranged not to write to each other unless there was something special. I wanted to have a month that was perfectly blank."
"And now I've come and interrupted. I can't tell you how ashamed I am--both of having done it and of not having been able to help it."
"Oh, but," said Scrap quickly, for he could not have come on a better day, when up there waiting and watching for her was, she knew, the enamoured Briggs, "I'm really very glad indeed to see you. Tell me about mother."