He waited another ten minutes, then left the room, called to the landlady that he was going, and let himself out.
Scarcely had he walked half a dozen yards, when he stood face to face with Franks.
"Ah! Here you are! I waited as long as I could--" "I'll walk with you," said the artist, turning on his heels.
He had shaken hands but limply.

His look avoided Warburton's.

His speech was flat, wearied.
"What's wrong, Franks ?" "As you've been in the studio, I daresay you know." "I saw something that surprised me." "_Did_ it surprise you ?" asked Norbert, in a half-sullen undertone.
"What do you mean by that ?" said Will with subdued resentment.
The rain had ceased; a high wind buffeted them as they went along the almost deserted street.

The necessity of clutching at his hat might have explained Norbert's silence for a moment; but he strode on without speaking.
"Of course, if you don't care to talk about it," said Will, stopping short.
"I've been walking about all day," Franks replied; "and I've got hell inside me; I'd rather not have met you to-night, that's the truth.

But I can't let you go without asking a plain question.