‘Not at all,’ replied Cestus, whose mind was too fully weighted with other matter to trifle with this question, ‘I met with an old friend, and we sat talking about old times till late—that’s all.’
‘You vexed me by saying what you did.’
‘I was rude,’ replied Cestus, as he rose from the table, ‘and I am sorry. Your father cannot do without me for a time yet, and I do not intend to quit you. I was joking—I am too comfortable and you are too kind.’
‘Ah, then you know what ails him?’
‘I have been thinking, and I have an idea; but I will find out and tell you. It is a fine day—I must be off out into the sunshine. What a pleasant morning for a trip from Capreae.’
He looked sidelong at her, and marked the faint tinge which rose to her cheek.
‘You remember that man who came into the shop yesterday,’ she remarked.
‘Yesterday!’ murmured Cestus, with lack-lustre eyes.
‘Yes! you looked at him and his slave as if you took an interest in them; then you hurried away and came back when they had gone.’
‘Oh—ah!’