"Why?" again asked Mrs. Warriner. "Why is it wonderful, since you remember it?"
"Ah, but I didn't remember it until"--he paused for a second or two--"until I saw your face in a looking-glass."
Miranda glanced at him in considerable perplexity. Then she said with a demure smile, "I have at times seen it there myself."
"No doubt," he replied with a glance at the cunning arrangement of her hair.
"My maid does that," said she, biting her lip.
"No doubt, but you sit in front of the glass at the time. You're in the room," he continued hastily; "but when I saw your face in my mirror, you couldn't be. I was in bed,--I mean,--let me tell you!" He stopped, overwhelmed with embarrassment. Miranda, with an air of complete unconsciousness, carefully buttoned her glove; only the glove was already buttoned, and her mouth twitched slightly at the corners.
"It was just a week ago to-day," Charnock began again. "I got home to my hotel late."
"Ah!" murmured Mrs. Warriner, as though the whole mystery was now explained to her.
"I assure you," he retorted with emphasis, "that I dined in the train and drank nothing more serious than railway claret."
"I made no accusation whatever," Miranda blandly remarked, and seemed very well pleased.