“Exactly. I find it impossible to associate you with—my little friend of the ‘Ambassador’s. "You know what I mean," said the trader, gravely. What’s the name of the happy man?” Gwen owned to “Fortescue. “Where?” “To that ball. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. And by monsieur le baron, of a disposition entirely unforgiving, I do not desire to be recognised in the least. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. She was particularly charmed by his theory of friendship. She never knew what became of her farmer after that. Until the age of five she adored him. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction.
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