And this chance immediately presented itself, as Paul, amid the applause that followed his song, walked over to Elizabeth and quietly shook hands with her. It was the moment that she had dreaded all the time that he was singing, yet now that it had come, she met it in apparent unconcern, and smiling, though with white lips.
"I thought at first," Paul said, "that you had quite forgotten me."
"Oh, no," she said, "my memory is not so short." Then she turned and introduced him to Mrs. Bobby, and went on herself quietly talking to Mr. D'Hauteville. Nothing could have been more simple. Not even Julian Gerard, who from a distance watched their meeting, could have imagined any secret understanding between them.
The handsome young singer made a very favorable impression upon Mrs. Bobby, who went so far as to ask him to call, in that impulsive way of hers, which sometimes led to consequences that she regretted. In this case she realized, almost as soon as the words had left her lips, that she had done a rash thing, or what Bobby would consider rash. Still, the invitation was given and eagerly accepted, even though Elizabeth, standing cold and indifferent, said not a word to second it. By this time the music was over. They were about to leave, when some one claimed Mrs. Bobby's attention, and she turned aside for a moment. Paul seized the opportunity, for which he had been anxiously waiting, to whisper in Elizabeth's ear.
"Darling, don't go. I must see you for a moment."
"You can't speak to me here," she said, impatiently, trying to escape from him.
"But I must see you. Can't you see that I must?"
"You have done without it," said Elizabeth, without turning her head, "some time."
"Because I couldn't help myself."
"There is such a thing as writing," she said, in the same low, bitter tone. Yet even as she spoke her conscience misgave her. It was not his neglect that she resented so bitterly, it was his return. But Paul, not understanding this was rather flattered than otherwise by the reproach.