Still, I was sorry that he seemed so steadily set against
the man, and could not help referring it to an instinct of his
personal relations, however nobly disguised from himself.
In the middle of these meditations, Grant whispered in my ear what
was perhaps the most startling of all interruptions.
"In the name of God, let's get away."
I have never known exactly in how odd a way this odd old man
affected me. I only know that for some reason or other he so
affected me that I was, within a few minutes, in the street
outside.
"This," he said, "is a beastly but amusing affair."
"What is?" I asked, baldly enough.
"This affair. Listen to me, my old friend. Lord and Lady Beaumont
have just invited you and me to a grand dinner-party this very
night, at which Mr Wimpole will be in all his glory. Well, there
is nothing very extraordinary about that. The extraordinary thing
is that we are not going."
"Well, really," I said, "it is already six o'clock and I doubt if
we could get home and dress. I see nothing extraordinary in the
fact that we are not going."
"Don't you?" said Grant. "I'll bet you'll see something
extraordinary in what we're doing instead."
I looked at him blankly.
"Doing instead?" I asked. "What are we doing instead?"
"Why," said he, "we are waiting for one or two hours outside this
house on a winter evening.
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