"Just so. And I have an idea that she will not easily be caught again. She will want to be very sure that the man loves her and not her money-bags, before she accepts him."
"Very wise. 'A burnt child dreads the fire,'" laughed the young man. "I suppose Mr. Shaw will write to you about it?"
"He will probably come and see me. But the matter is at an end—definitely at an end. Do you dine with me to-night?"
"Certainly, if you like it. What did the doctor say to your leg to-day?"
"That I was much better, and that he hoped, in a few days, I might stand the jolting of a cab, and go backwards and forwards to my own house. The confinement to these three rooms in this weather is a trial. I shall be the better for Hampstead air again."
"When you do get home, you must take a little holiday, and not come here every day; but let me do more of your work."
"No, my dear boy, you must take a holiday yourself as soon as I can get about. It must be uncommonly dull for you here with me; and you have been very good. I don't know what I should have done without you."
"Oh, I'll get a holiday by-and-by. As long as I am of use to you here, I am quite contented to remain," returned his nephew.
They dined together at eight, and neither Miss Shaw nor her affairs were alluded to throughout the evening. At ten o'clock, after a game of piquet with his uncle, George bade him good night, and strolled into the
