“Oh, come in,” said Algernon. “The lady’s better now.”
“Bless me, fainting fit, I suppose. How very sad!”
He took a tumbler off the sideboard, half filled with water, with which he moistened the forehead and temples of his old playmate.
“That will do—I am all right. Why it’s dear old Charlie!” she ejaculated, catching sight of the well-known features of our hero. “Well, I am glad to see you—oh, so very glad! The sight of you has quite restored me. Sit down, Charlie.”
“But you,” inquired our hero—“how do you find yourself now?”
“Oh, better. I’m all right. Don’t concern yourself about me,” said Laura Stanbridge, throwing herself into an armchair, and smoothing her brown hair across her brows.
“I will see you later on,” remarked Mr. Algernon Sutherland, as he glided out of the apartment. “Farewell for the present.”
He gave a graceful waive of his hand, and passed on into the passage.
In another moment the front door of the habitation was gently closed, and Peace was left alone with his lady companion.
“Who is that gentleman?” he inquired, after Sutherland had taken his departure.