Most likely the old man was alive when he married
your aunt. It's easy to understand now why he's led such a queer
life, isn't it? I shouldn't a bit wonder if he went away the second
time because his father had died. I'll find out about it. Would you
believe, when I met him in the street and spoke to him, he pretended
he'd never heard such a name as Clover!"
"You met him, did you? When?"
"Oh--I'll tell you all about that afterwards. It's getting late. We
shall have lots of talk. You'll let me take you home? We'll have a
cab, shall we? Lady Pollys don't walk about the streets on a wet
night."
She stood in thought.
"I want you to do something for me."
"Right you are! Tell me and I'll do it like a shot, see if I don't."
His arm again encircled her, and this time Polly did not talk of her
'at or her 'air. Indeed, she bent her head, half hiding her face
against him.
"You know that letter I sent you?"
"What's in it? Something nicey-picey?"
"I want you to let me go to the 'ouse with you--just to the
door--and I want you to give me that letter back--just as it
is--without opening it.
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