You
wouldn't know it anyway, it's such a little place. They called it
Portergwarra--"
"I know," cried Peter, "near the Land's End. Of course I know it. There are
holes in the rocks that they lift the boats through. There's a post-box on
the wall. I've walked there many a time--"
"Well, stow it, old man," Miss Bennett answered decisively. "I'm not
thinking of that place any more and I don't suppose they've thought of me
since. Why, it's years--"
She broke off and began hurriedly to drink. Peter's eyes sought her
eyes--his eyes were miserable and so were hers--but her mouth was hard and
laughing.
"It's funny talking of Cornwall," she said at last. "No one's spoken of the
place since I came up here. But it's all right, I tell you--quite all
right. You take it from me, chucky. I enjoy my life--have a jolly time.
There's disadvantages in every profession, and when you've got a bit of a
cold as I have now why--"
She stopped. Her eyes sought Peter's. He saw that she was nearly crying.
"Talking of Cornwall and all that," she muttered, "silly rot! I'm
tired--I'm going home."
He paid for the drinks and got a hansom.
At that moment as he stood looking over the horse into the dimly-lit
obscurities of the Square he thought with a sudden beating of the heart
that he recognised Cardillac looking at him from the doorway of a
neighbouring restaurant.
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