“Yes, you know; we think that so important, just as you do. Do sit down, Mr. Baxter. You have had tea?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“I hope she will be down before you go. I don’t think she’ll be very long this evening. Can I give her any message, Mr. Baxter, in case you don’t see her?”
Laurie put his hat and stick down carefully, and crossed his legs.
“No; I don’t think so, thanks,” he said. “The fact is, I came partly to find out your address, if I might.”
Mrs. Stapleton rustled and rearranged herself.
“Oh! but that’s charming of you,” she said. “Is there anything particular?”
“Yes,” said Laurie slowly; “at least it seems rather particular to me. It’s what you were talking about the other day.”
“Now how nice of you to say that! Do you know, I was wondering as we talked. Now do tell me exactly what is in your mind, Mr. Baxter.”
Mrs. Stapleton was conscious of a considerable sense of pleasure. Usually she found this kind of man very imperceptive and gross. Laurie seemed perfectly at his ease, dressed quite in the proper way, and had an air of presentableness that usually only went with Philistinism. She determined to do her best.
“May I speak quite freely, please?” he asked, looking straight at her.
“Please, please,” she said, with that touch of childish intensity that her friends thought so innocent and beautiful.