"Richard, there are a few hundreds at the bank unclaimed by my hysterical creditors, if"
"Thanks, old man," said Beresford quietly as he rose. "I shall be all right," and he gripped with unusual warmth the hand that Drewitt extended to him.
"You're in the very devil of a mess, Dickie," he said quietly. "I'm always here when you want me."
Beresford drove back to Jermyn Street to telephone to Lola that Drewitt would be able to lunch on the morrow. He felt strangely lonely without her. For the last week he had been constantly in her company, and now suddenly she had been lifted clean out of his life. There was the whole evening to dispose of, and the following morning until lunch-time. He might go to a theatre, it was true; but what object would there be when his thoughts would be elsewhere than with the performers?
Arrived at Jermyn Street, he got through to the Belle Vue, and held the line for nearly ten minutes whilst they were searching for Lola. Eventually a message came that she was not to be found, and with a vicious jab he replaced the receiver. Three times he rang her up, and three times the message was the same. Finally he sat down to write a note and, having spoiled a number of sheets of note-paper, folded and placed in an envelope something with which he was entirely dissatisfied. It was impossible to write to the Rain-Girl with all sorts of barriers and restraints intervening.
