"I'm very glad to see you, Miss Driver. May I introduce my friend, Mr. Dormer—of Hingston?"
She bowed to him very graciously, but turned back directly to Lacey. I saw Dormer's eyes follow her movements with an admiring curiosity. Small wonder; she was good to look at, and he had, no doubt, heard much.
"You must come and see me," said Jenny. "Now when shall it be? Lunch to-morrow? Or tea? Not later than the next day, anyhow!"
At that point she must have seen something in his face. She stopped, smiled oddly, even broke into a little laugh, and said, almost in a whisper, "Oh, I forgot, how stupid of me!"
Her tone and air, and the look in her hazel eyes, were nicely compounded of humility and mockery. Confessing herself unworthy, she asked the man if he were afraid! Didn't he dare to trust himself—was he so careful of his reputation?
Lacey had promised me that he would "think over" the question of his relations toward Breysgate Priory. I suppose that he thought it over now—under Jenny's humble deriding eyes.
"Lunch to-morrow—I shall be delighted. Thanks awfully," he said.
So ended that case of conscience. Jenny said no more than "One-thirty"—but her lips curved over that prosaic intimation of the hour of the meal. She turned to Dormer.
"Could I persuade you to drop in, too, Mr. Dormer? We're neighbors, you know."
"It's most kind of you, Miss Driver. I shall be delighted."