"My name is Severino," explained the other. "I was introduced to you an
hour or two ago at the club."
"Ah, to be sure!" cried Langholm, recovering. "Odd thing, though, for we
must have left about the same time, and I never saw you till this
moment."
Severino took the vacant place by Langholm's side. "Mr. Langholm," said
he, a tremor in his soft voice, "I have a confession to make to you. I
followed you from the club!"
"_You_ followed _me_?"
Langholm could not help the double emphasis; to him it seemed a
grotesque turning of the tables, a too poetically just ending to that
misspent day. It was all he could do to repress a smile.
"Yes, I followed you," the young Italian repeated, with his taking
accent, in his touching voice; "and I beg your pardon for doing
so--though I would do the same again--I will tell you why. I thought
that you were talking about me while I was strumming to them at the
club. It is possible, of course, that I was quite mistaken; but when you
went out I stopped at once and asked questions. And they told me you
were a friend of--a great friend of mine--of Mrs. Minchin!"
"It is true enough," said Langholm, after a pause.
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