Thomas Kinkade The Heart of San Francisco paintingThomas Kinkade Sunset on Lamplight Lane paintingThomas Kinkade Sunday Outing painting
This was uncomfortably near the truth. “You misunderstand me,” I said.
“I hope I do. A remark like that would start a roughhouse at the Wimpole.”
A new and glorious idea came to me. “Atwater,” I said, cautiously for his oppressed mood was still on him. “Please do not take offence at my suggestion but, supposing I were to pay—as a loan, of course—would it be possible for us, do you think, to lunch at the Wimpole?”
He took the suggestion quite well. “I’ll be frank with you,” he said. “I haven’t paid this month’s sub yet. It’s seven and sixpence.”
“We’ll include that in the loan.”
“Good scout. I know you’ll like the place.”
The taxi driver, to whom I gave the address “Wimpole Club,” was nonplussed. “Now you’ve got me,” he said. “I thought I knew them all. It’s not what used to be called the ‘Palm Beach’?”
“No,” said Atwater, and gave more exact directions.
We drove to a mews off Wimpole Street. (“It’s handy for chaps in the motor Great Portland Street way,” said Atwater.) “By the way, I may as well explain, I’m known as Norton at the club.”