The Lady looked puzzled, as she followed Barth into the room, a few moments later. Only a day or two before, Nancy, moved by a spirit of iniquity, had confided to the Lady the whole tale of her connection with Barth, and the Lady, who already adored Nancy and, moreover, was discerning enough to see the inherent manliness of Barth, had held her peace. A charming scene of recognition was bound to follow Barth’s return to The Maple Leaf. No hint of a mystery to come should take from the glamor of that pleasant surprise. Barth and Nancy both were curiously alone; both were aliens, meeting upon neutral soil. Already in her mind’s eye the Lady foresaw romance and international complications.
With her bodily eye the Lady saw the elements of her international complications sitting in close juxtaposition, but with their backs discreetly turned to an obtuse angle with each other. She made a swift, but futile, effort to account for the situation. Then she gave Nancy a merry nod of comprehension, if not of understanding, and passed on to speak to Barth.
“You are better, to-day, I hope.”
“Oh, yes.”
“I hope you didn’t feel obliged to come over to dinner. It was no trouble to send your meals to you.”
“Oh, no. I was tired of stopping in my room.”
“You look as if you had been having rather a hard time of it,” the Lady said kindly.
“Yes. I never supposed an ankle could be so painful. Still, I hope it is over now.”
“Then it doesn’t trouble you to walk?”
“Oh, rather! And, besides, it makes one such an object, you know, and then people stare. It won’t be long, though, I dare say, before I can walk without limping.”