He was carefully and correctly
dressed in clothes borrowed from his new tailor, and he showed not the
slightest signs of strangeness or gaucherie amongst his unfamiliar
surroundings. He looked about him always, with the cold, easy
nonchalance of the man of the world. Of being recognized he had not
the slightest fear. His frame and bearing, and the brightness of his
deep, strong eyes, still belonged to early middle age, but his face
itself, worn and hardened, was the face of an elderly man. The more
Aynesworth watched him, the more puzzled he felt.
"I am afraid," he remarked, "that you are disappointed in this place."
"Not at all," Wingrave answered. "It is typical of a class, I suppose.
It is the sort of place I wished to visit."
In a corner of the room Aynesworth had recognized a friend and fellow
clubman, who was acting at a neighboring theater. He was dining with
some young ladies of his company, and beckoned to Aynesworth to come
over and join them. He pointed them out to Wingrave.
"Would you care to be introduced?" he asked. "Holiwell is a very good
fellow, and the girls might interest you. Two of them are Americans,
and they are very popular."
Wingrave shook his head.
"Thank you, no!" he said. "I should be glad to meet your friend some
time when he is alone."
It was the first intimation which Aynesworth had received of his
companion's sentiments as regards the other sex.
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