"Because it's comfortable, I suppose," answered Gammon, reflecting
for the first time that it was not very respectful to come to this
rendezvous in a "bowler." Polly had never mentioned the matter
before, though she had thought about it. "You like the chimney-pot
better?"
"Why, of course I do. On a Sunday, too, who wouldn't?"
"I'll bear it in mind, my dear. My chimney-pot wants ironing. Have
it done to-morrow if I can find time."
Polly scrutinized the costume of a girl walking with a soldier, and
asked all at once indifferently:
"Do you know anybody called Gildersleeve?"
"Gildersleeve? Don't think so. No. Why?"
She searched his face to make sure that he did not simulate
ignorance.
"Well, you wanted me to find out where that lady lived--you know--her
as was with Mr. C--at the theatre."
"And you've got it?" cried Gammon excitedly.
Yes, she had got it, and by consulting a directory at a public-house
she had discovered the name of the family residing at that address.
Gildersleeve? The name conveyed nothing to Mr.
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