"
The two men looked at one another across the round table. Mr.
Waddington heaved a sigh.
"I shouldn't bother about that sale, if I were you," Burton whispered
hoarsely. "I tell you what it is, I daren't go on like this any longer.
I shall do something desperate. This horrible place is getting
attractive to me! I shall probably sit here and order more beer and
wait till Maud comes; I shall stay to lunch and sit with my arm around
her afterwards! I am going to take a bean at once."
Mr. Waddington sighed and produced the snuff-box from his waistcoat
pocket. Burton followed suit. The young woman, leaning across the
counter, watched them curiously.
"What's that you're taking?" she inquired. "Something for indigestion?"
"Not exactly," Mr. Waddington replied. "It's a little ailment I'm
suffering from, and Burton too."
They both swallowed their beans. Burton gave a deep sigh.
"I feel safe again," he murmured. "I am certain that I was on the point
of suggesting that she send up for Maud. We might have taken them out
together to-night, Mr. Waddington--had dinner at Frascati's, drunk
cheap champagne, and gone to a music-hall!"
"Burton," Mr. Waddington said calmly, "I do not for a moment believe
that we should so far have forgotten ourselves.
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