Beeton,
sympathetically. His own ideas of a riotous holiday meant picnicking on the
grass of Green Park with his family, and half a dozen paper bags full of food.
"Keep to the river," said Dick, and they kept to the river, and the rush of it
was in his ears till they came to Blackfriars Bridge and struck thence on to
the Waterloo Road, Mr. Beeton explaining the beauties of the scenery as he went
on.
"And walking on the other side of the pavement," said he, "unless I'm much
mistaken, is the young woman that used to come to your rooms to be drawed. I
never forgets a face and I never remembers a name, except paying tenants, 'o
course!"
"Stop her," said Dick. "It's Bessie Broke. Tell her I'd like to speak to her
again. Quick, man!"
Mr. Beeton crossed the road under the noses of the omnibuses and arrested
Bessie then on her way northward. She recognised him as the man in authority
who used to glare at her when she passed up Dick"s staircase, and her first
impulse was to run.
"Wasn't you Mr. Heldar's model?" said Mr. Beeton, planting himself in front of
her. "You was. He's on the other side of the road and he'd like to see you."
"Why?" said Bessie, faintly. She remembered--indeed had never for long
forgotten--an affair connected with a newly finished picture.
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