"Patty," he said, "believe me, I came as soon as I could. I knew nothing of your trouble until last evening, when Miss Dick came to me about it. I lost no time then. I, we, came to—to this place late as it was, but we were not permitted to see you, we were obliged to go away and wait until the morning."
At the sound of her homely, familiar diminutive her lips trembled, though she answered with a little smile:
"Yes, the rules of this—this institution are rigorously observed;" then with a sudden transition to the old mocking raillery: "Ah, Philip, in all your gloomy prognostications for my future you never once thought of me as coming to—this—did you?"
The flippant words and manner jarred on him, he drew back from her mentally, and found himself wondering if there could be any situation in life, however tragic, that she would take seriously; and as he thought this, Patricia was noting the difference between his hand and hers, as they rested on the table side by side. Hers so white and dainty, luxurious, useless, with rounded nails and rosy finger-tips; his strong and nervous, with fine lines in the long firm fingers and well-modelled wrist. Were they not fitting types of their two characters?
"Patricia," he said again, and even more gently because of his half criticism of her, "it is a very terrible grief to me to find you here, and to know the—the reason of it all. I have come now because I want you to hear one thing from my own lips, and that is, Patty, that all I have, or can give you at this time, is yours without the asking, if you care to make use of it. I know I may be too late in offering you my services—indeed, I may be too late to be of any practical advantage to you—but in any case, as a lawyer, or a friend, I beg you will command me. You can surely trust my friendship."
At the last word she smiled, and raising her eyes met his, with a sudden leaping to life of the old blue fire in her own.
"Yes," she said slowly. "Yes, oh yes, I am quite sure I can rely upon the disinterestedness of your—friendship." Then, after a moment's silence: "Have you seen Esther? How is she? These are her roses. Are they not exquisite, and redolent of the Folly?"
"They are redolent of my folly," he answered sharply, and then continued, hurriedly withdrawing his hand from its close proximity to hers, "I saw Mrs. Newbold last evening; she has made herself quite ill by grieving over you and your present position. She is a most loyal friend, Patricia."
"And loyalty is so priceless an ingredient in—friendship," replied Miss Hildreth, "one should put a fictitious value upon it when one finds it. Will you find a chair, Philip, and sit down? I believe I shall make use of your protestations now."
He crossed the room in answer to her invitation, bringing back with him the one other chair afforded by official regulations. Her eyes followed his movements, and a smile, half tender, half wistful, trembled about her lips, fleeting in its gentleness as was her mood; for, when Philip returned and seated himself at some little distance from her, the fine well-cut lips were closed firmly and with something of sternness in their expression.