At ten o'clock next morning Tom Carringford appeared at the Langham.
"Miss Vincent said you were staying here, so I made bold to come," he
explained, with a boyish frankness that immediately won over Mr.
Vincent. "Please forgive me, and don't think it awfully cool of me to
come so early. I was afraid I should miss you if I waited."
"I'm very glad to see you," Mr. Vincent said. "I knew your father well."
And in a moment Tom was quite at his ease.
"What did you think of 'King John?'" he asked Margaret.
"It was splendid; and a theatre is a wonderful place. How can people
call it wicked?"
"Well, they don't," he laughed, "unless they are idiots, then they do,
perhaps," at which she laughed too, and thought of Hannah. "I expect the
scenes with Arthur gave you a few bad moments, didn't they?" he asked.
"She wept," her father said, evidently amused at the recollection.
"That's all right." Tom beamed with satisfaction. She was a nice girl,
he thought, so of course she wept; she ought to weep at seeing that sort
of thing for the first time. Then he turned to Mr. Vincent. "My father
would be glad to think I had seen you at last," he said; "he often
wondered why you never turned up."
"I have not turned up anywhere for more than five-and-twenty years," Mr.
Vincent answered. "If I had he would have seen me." He was looking at
Tom with downright pleasure, at his six feet of growth and broad
shoulders, at his frank face and clear blue eyes. This was the sort of
boy that a man would like to have for a son, he thought; and then, after
a moment's characteristic hesitation, he said: "Stringer told us that
you went to Hindhead sometimes; perhaps one day you would get over and
see us?"
"Should like it," said Tom, heartily.
"You have left Oxford, of course?"
"Oh yes, last year."
"Any ambitions?"
"Plenty. But I don't know whether they'll come to anything. I believe
there'll be an unpaid under-secretaryship presently, and by-and-by I
hope to get into the House. Politics are rather low down, you know, Miss
Vincent, so they'll suit me. What did you think of Miss Hunstan? I saw
her last night; she had fallen in love with you."
"Had she?" Margaret exclaimed, joyfully. "I'm so glad. I love her,
though I only saw her for a moment."
"I'll tell her so. Every one does. My mother was devoted to her; that's
one reason why I am. She's great fun, too, though, of course, she's
getting on a bit," he added, with the splendid insolence of youth.
"There's something more at the back of this visit," and he looked at Mr.
Vincent. "I have been wondering if you are really going to-day?"
"By the 2.50 from Waterloo. We can't stay any longer."
"Well--I know this is daring; but couldn't you both come and lunch with
me? I have my father's little house in Stratton Street, and should like
to think you had been there. It would be very good of you."