He smelt the familiar odor of "Lily of the
Valley" perfume, blended with the odor of cleaned gloves and benzine.
The air around him was full of little violet specks from her boa. She
laid her hand upon his shoulder.
"Come and be a man again, Alfred," she begged, a little awkwardly.
"You've got good common sense at the bottom still, I am sure. Why don't
you give up this tomfoolery and come home to me and the boy? Or shall I
stay up," she went on, "and have a little evening in town? You've got
the money. Why not let's go to a restaurant and a music-hall
afterwards? We might ask the Johnsons. Little Alf would be all right,
and I put on my best hat, in case."
Burton looked wearily up.
"Ellen," he said, "I am afraid I can't make you understand. It is true
that I shall probably be rich, but I hate the thought of it. I only
want to be left alone. I have made a mistake, and yet, Heaven knows, it
was hard for me to escape! Before very long," he added, his voice
sinking a little lower, "it is quite likely that you will recognize me
again completely. I dare say then I shall be very glad to go to the
theatre with you and to meet the Johnsons. Just now I--I can't."
Ellen began to tremble.
"Before long you'll be very glad, eh?" she exclaimed.
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