As soon as the men appeared in the drawing-room, Miss Barker made a significant movement of her hand, and as the enchanted veteran ventured to occupy the seat beside her, she began—
“I am longing for you to finish that story about the old sower, and the pariah dog—do, please, do go on—you had just got to where he was lying on the orderly-room steps, when Maudie hustled us all upstairs”; and so conversation was resumed precisely where it had been interrupted. “Your experiences are so enthralling!” she remarked, as he took her coffee-cup. “I only wish my sister could hear them—you really ought to write a book.”
Colonel Doran looked at her doubtfully for a moment: then he laughed aloud.
“Lady Barre is my only sister; I live with her,” she resumed. This was not a fact. Julia happened to be staying with her for a few days; but, as the Spanish proverb says, “there is no tax on lies.” “Will you come and have tea with us some afternoon?”
“I—I——” He was about to refuse, but she suddenly looked up at him with an appeal in her eyes, and he said “Er—I shall be delighted.”
“We live at two hundred and five, Grosvenor Street,—shall we say Tuesday at four o’clock?”
“Thank you.”
“You won’t forget, will you?” again looking up at him. “If you do, I shall feel so hurt and disappointed.”
Colonel Doran, though over fifty years of age, blushed as if he were seventeen; he actually felt his face burning at the implied compliment. How astonishing it seemed that this handsome, charming woman should be interested in a battered old soldier. What did she see in him?
* * * * * *