"Howard!"
"Hullo!"
"Have you a copy of that verse? I have not half studied it this
evening."
"What?" he said, looking round his chair back. "Your precious Linked
Spheres? Yes; take that one if you like."
I took up the paper.
"Thanks!" I said, and re-descended the stairs.
Going down Baker Street, I stopped at the first lamp-post, and read
some lines of it again. A glow of admiration, almost of affection,
towards the curious lines, full of nascent genius, lit slowly in me.
"Splendid! magnificent!" I muttered. "If not here, I'll see it's got
out in Paris."
CHAPTER III.
The next week saw myself and Howard installed in Paris. We had two
large, comfortable rooms on the second floor, opening into each
other, well furnished and upholstered in every way as sitting-rooms,
as most of the French bedrooms are.
They faced a corner where several boulevards met and diverged, and
there was a constant stream of Paris life flowing beneath our
windows every hour of the day. A balcony ran outside, and on this in
the evening we used to stand and smoke and flick paper balls on to
the heads of the grisettes and the bonnes passing far underneath. On
the ground floor of the hotel was a cafe that extended also over the
pavement with its chairs and tables, and was open to the general
public as well as to those who were staying in the hotel.
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