'I know now. I didn't before,' Nancy replied.

'Of course we can make a party in the evening.'

'Of course.'

Horace looked up at the ugly house-backs, and hesitated before
proceeding.

'That isn't what I wanted to talk about,' he said at length. 'A very
queer thing has happened, a thing I can't make out at all.'

The listener looked her curiosity.

'I promised to say nothing about it, but there's no harm in telling
you, you know. You remember I was away last Saturday afternoon?
Well, just when it was time to leave the office, that day, the
porter came to say that a lady wished to see me--a lady in a
carriage outside. Of course I couldn't make it out at all, but I
went down as quickly as possible, and saw the carriage waiting
there,--a brougham,--and marched up to the door. Inside there
was a lady--a great swell, smiling at me as if we were friends. I
took off my hat, and said that I was Mr. Lord. "Yes," she said, "I
see you are;" and she asked if I could spare her an hour or two, as
she wished to speak to me of something important. Well, of course I
could only say that I had nothing particular to do,--that I was
just going home. "Then will you do me the pleasure," she said, "to
come and have lunch with me? I live in Weymouth Street, Portland
Place."