Olga, after losing sight of him
for nearly two years, by chance discovered his whereabouts and his
circumstances, and twice in the past week had paid him a visit.
"I wanted to tell you," pursued Miss Bonnicastle, in a steady,
matter-of-fact voice, "that he's going to have a room in this house,
and be looked after."
"Indeed?"
There was a touch of malice in Olga's surprise. She held herself
rather stiffly.
"It's just as well to be straightforward," continued the other. "I
should like to say that it'll be very much better if you don't come
to see him at all."
Olga was now very dignified indeed.
"Oh, pray say no more I quite understand--quite!"
"I shouldn't have said it at all," rejoined Miss Bonnicastle, "if I
could have trusted your--discretion. The fact is, I found I
couldn't."
"Really!" exclaimed Olga, red with anger. "You might spare me
insults!"
"Come, come! We're not going to fly at each other, Olga. I intended
no insult; but, whilst we're about it, do take advice from one who
means it well. Sentiment is all right, but sentimentality is all
wrong. Do get rid of it, there's a good girl. You're meant for
something better."
Olga made a great sweep of the floor with her skirts, and vanished
in a whirl of perfume.
She drove straight to the address which she had seen on Alexander
Otway's card. It was in a decently sordid street south of the river;
in a window on the ground floor hung an announcement of Alexander's
name and business.
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