It was a concession--and concessions were immemorially
worth what they would fetch. But the other thing might
have been so awkward--and now it was all right!
For an hour and more, till the fire burnt itself out
and the guest's snoring became too active a nuisance,
Thorpe sat lost in this congratulatory reverie.
Then he rose, and sharply shaking Tavender into a semblance
of consciousness, led him upstairs and put him to bed.
Three days later he personally saw Tavender off at Waterloo
station by the steamer-train, en route for Southampton
and New York. The old man was in childlike good spirits,
looking more ecclesiastical than ever in the new clothes he
had been enabled to buy. He visibly purred with content
whenever his dim eyes caught sight of the new valise and
steamer trunk, which belonged to him, on the busy platform.
"You've been very kind to me, Thorpe," he said more
than once, as they stood together beside the open door
of the compartment. "I was never so hospitably treated
before in my life. Your attention to me has been wonderful.
I call you a true friend."
"Oh, that's all right! Glad to do it," replied the
other, lightly. In truth he had not let Tavender
stray once out of his sight during those three days.
He had dragged him tirelessly about London, showing him
the sights from South Kensington Museum to the Tower,
shopping with him, resting in old taverns with him,
breakfasting, lunching, aud dining with him--in the
indefatigable resolution that he should strike up no
dangerous gossiping acquaintance with strangers.
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