" Peter trembled all over.
"I wonder whether you would care to come and have a chat with me. I have
some things you might care to see. What time like the present? It is early
hours yet and you will be doing an old man who sleeps only poorly a
kindness."
What a night of nights! Peter, trembling with excitement, felt Henry
Galleon put his arm in his, felt the weight of the great man's body. They
walked slowly along and the moon and the stars and the lights on the river
and the early little leaves in the trees and the stones of the houses
and the little "tish-tish" of the water against the Embankment seemed to
say--"Oh! Peter Westcott's going to have a chat with Henry Galleon! Did you
ever hear such a thing!"
Peter was sorry that his Embankment was deserted and that there was no one
to see them go into the house together. He drew a great breath as the door
closed behind them. The house was large and dark and mysterious. The rest
of the family were still out at some party. Henry Galleon drew Peter into
his own especial quarters and soon they were sitting in a lofty library,
its walls covered with books that stretched to the ceiling. Peter meanwhile
buried in a huge arm-chair and feeling that Henry Galleon's eyes were
piercing him through and through.
The old man talked for some time about other things--talked wonderfully
about the great ones of the earth whom he had known, the great things that
he had seen.
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