As the servant opened the door, he said in his low respectful tones,
"Mrs. Cormack is here, sir, waiting for Mrs. Dennison."
A moment later Willie Ruston was overwhelmed in a shrilly enthusiastic greeting. Mrs. Cormack had been in despair from ennui; Maggie's delay was endless, and Mr. Ruston was in verity a godsend. Indeed there was every appearance of sincerity in the lady's welcome. She stood and looked at him with an expression of most wicked and mischievous pleasure. The remorse detected by Tom Loring was not visible now; pure delight reigned supreme, and gave free scope to her frivolous fearlessness.
"Enfin!" she said. "Behold the villain of the piece!"
He opened his eyes in questioning.
"Oh, you think to deceive me too? Why, I have prophesied it."
"You are," said Willie, standing on the hearth-rug, and gazing at her nervous restless figure, so rich in half-expressed hints too subtle for language, "the most outrageous of women, Mrs. Cormack. Fortunately you have a fling at everybody, and the saints come off as badly as the sinners."
A shrug asserted her opinion of his pretences. He answered,
"I really am so unfortunate as not to have the least idea what you're driving at."
An inarticulate scornful little sound greeted this protest.