They went on talking, and then, following in secret the train of her own thoughts, she suddenly burst out:
"I never met anybody like you before." A pause ensued. "No, never!" she added, with intense conviction.
"I might say the same of you," he replied, moved.
"Oh no! I'm nothing!" she breathed.
She glanced up, exquisitely flattered. His face was crimson. Exquisite moment, in the familiarity of the breakfast-room, by the fire, she on the sofa, with him standing over her, a delicious peril. The crimson slowly paled.
III
Osmond Orgreave entered the room, quizzical, and at once began to tease Clayhanger about the infrequency of his visits.
Turning to Hilda, he said: "He scarcely ever comes to see us, except when you're here." It was just as if he had said: "I heard every word you spoke before I came in, and I have read your hearts." Both Hilda and Clayhanger were disconcerted--Clayhanger extremely so.
"Steady on!" he protested uncouthly. And then, with the most naïve ingenuousness: "Mrs. Orgreave better?"
But Osmond Orgreave was not in a merciful mood. A moment later he was saying: