He walked about the beach in a piping wind, waved his arms, talked to himself, now and then raised a great shout.  And that night he slept soundly.

CHAPTER 28

He got back to Fulham Road in time for the press of Saturday night.  Allchin declared that he looked much better, and customers were once more gratified by Mr. Jollyman’s studious civility.  On Sunday morning he wrote a long letter to Sherwood, which, for lack of other address, he sent to the care of Godfrey’s relative in Wales.  This was something done.  In the afternoon he took a long walk, which led him through the Holland Park region.  He called to see Franks, but the artist was not at home; so he left a card asking for news.  And the next day brought Franks’ telegraphic reply.  “Nothing definite yet.  Shall come to see you late one of these evenings.  I have not been to Walham Green.”  Though he had all but persuaded himself that he cared not at all, one way or the other, this message did Warburton good.  Midway in the week, business being slack, he granted himself a half holiday, and went to Ashtead, merely in friendliness to Ralph Pomfret—­so he said to himself.

From Ashtead station to the Pomfrets’ house was a good twenty minutes’ walk.  As he strode along, eyes upon the ground, Will all at once saw the path darkened by a shadow; he then became conscious of a female figure just in front of him, and heedlessly glancing at the face, was arrested by a familiar smile.

“You were coming to see us?” asked Miss Elvan, offering her hand.  “What a pity that I have to go to town!  Only just time to catch the train.”

“Then I’ll walk back to the station with you—­may I?”

“I shall be delighted, if you don’t mind the trouble.  I have an appointment with Miss Cross.  She has found rooms which she thinks will suit me, and we’re going to look at them together.”

“So you have decided for London?”

“I think so.  The rooms are at Chelsea, in Oakley Crescent.  I know how fond you are of London, and how well you know it.  And I know so little; only a street or two here and there.  I mean to remedy my ignorance.  If ever you have an afternoon to spare, Mr. Warburton, I should be so glad if you would let me go with you to see interesting places.”

For an instant, Will was surprised, confused, but Rosamund’s entire simplicity and directness of manner rebuked this sensation.  He replied in a corresponding tone that nothing would please him more.  They were now at the railway station, and the train approached.  Rosamund having sprung into a carriage, gave her hand through the window, saying: 

“I may be settled in a day or two.  You will hear—­”

With the sentence unfinished, she drew back, and the train rolled away.  For a minute or two, Warburton stood on the platform, his lips mechanically prolonging the smile which had answered Miss Elvan’s, and his thoughts echoing her last words.  When he turned, he at first walked slowly; then his pace quickened, and he arrived at the Pomfrets’ house, as though on urgent business.  In the garden he caught sight of Ralph, recovered from his attack of gout, sitting at his ease, pipe in mouth.  Will told of his meeting with Miss Elvan.