"
It gratified him to see the gleam in Miss Derwent's eyes the'
announcement had its hoped-for effect. Trafford Romaine, the Atlas
of our Colonial world; the much-debated, the universally interesting
champion of Greater British interests! She knew, of course, that
Arnold Jacks was his friend; no one could talk with Mr. Jacks for
half an hour without learning that; but the off-hand mention of
their being about to meet this very day had an impressiveness for
Irene.
"I saw that he was coming to England."
"From the States--yes. He has been over there on a holiday--
merely a holiday. Of course, the papers have tried to find a meaning
in it. That kind of thing amuses him vastly. He says in his last
letter to me----"
Carelessly, the letter was drawn from an inner pocket. Only a page
and a half; Arnold read it out. A bluff and rather slangy epistolary
style.
"May I see his hand?" asked Irene, trying to make fun of her wish.
He gave her the letter, and watched her amusedly as she gazed at the
first page. On receiving it back again, he took his penknife,
carefully cut out the great man's signature, and offered it for
Irene's acceptance.
"Thank you. But you know, of course, that I regard it as a mere
curiosity."
"Oh, yes! Why not? So do I the theory of Evolution."
By a leading question or two, Miss Derwent set her companion talking
at large of Trafford Romaine, his views and policies.
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