"It's very puzzling," the old woman remarked, artlessly.
Sherringham laughed again; then he said: "Now don't tell me I'm not a good friend."
"You are indeed—you're a very noble gentleman. That's just why a quiet life with you—"
"It wouldn't be quiet for me!" Sherringham broke in. "And that's not what Miriam was made for."
"Don't say that, for my precious one!" Mrs. Rooth quavered.
"Go to London—go to London," her visitor repeated.
Thoughtfully, after an instant, she extended her hand and took from the table the letter on the composition of which he had found her engaged. Then with a quick movement she tore it up. "That's what Mr. Dashwood says."
"Mr. Dashwood?"
"I forgot you don't know him. He's the brother of that lady we met the day you were so good as to receive us; the one who was so kind to us—Mrs. Lovick."
"I never heard of him."
"Don't you remember that she spoke of him and Mr. Lovick didn't seem very kind about him? She told us that if he were to meet us—and she was so good as to insinuate that it would be a pleasure to him to do so—he might give us, as she said, a tip."
Sherringham indulged in a visible effort to recollect. "Yes, he comes back to me. He's an actor."
"He's a gentleman too," said Mrs. Rooth.
"And you've met him and he has given you a tip?"
"As I say, he wants us to go to London."
