“No, no,” she cried hastily, “you must not think any more of Constance, you must go to Leipsic, just as you intended doing.”
“But you said—” he began.
“I meant, in the future, if we should ever chance to meet by accident.”
His brow darkened.
“Where?” he asked briefly.
“Who can tell,” she answered cheerfully; “people are always meeting again. See how that man of the steamer met me again to-day.”
“But you have hear of him since you come?” he demanded, a fresh shade of suspicion in his tone.
“Never! Never a word until he came out of the Promenade and spoke to me this afternoon.”
Von Ibn thought about it frowningly for a little and then decided it was not worth his pains.
“I would not care to meet again as he,” he declared carelessly; “how he was sent to fetch me, and then he must go alone while we speak together, and then make that tale of a drive when there was no drive by the University, only a knowledge that he was much not wanted.”