"Oh, I am so ashamed!" she exclaimed; "I had to pay one or two other calls, and like a greedy child with sweets, I kept the best for the last. I had not the faintest idea it was so late."
"Better late than never," said her hostess, politely, and the gong at that moment sounded for tiffin.
"You will stay, won't you?" she urged, little knowing that her visitor had carefully timed her arrival in order to be sure of catching Philip at home; "I'll send away the gharry."
"Oh, thank you, I must confess it is a great temptation; but do you think the Blaines will mind?" and she looked at her hostess appealingly.
"I can write a line if you like. Philip," turning about as her husband entered, "here is Mrs. Waldershare—she will stay to lunch."
Lola gave her former lover her hand, and a long, expressing glance; then as Angel hurried out, she said: "What a charming home you have, Philip."
"I am glad you like it," he said cheerfully.
"How funny to think of this being your house, Philip, and of you being married and happy." She gazed up at him with soft interrogation as she spoke, then dropped her voice and said, "And I am solitary and homeless and poor—all my life, I've stood aside for others and—given up." One of Lola's chief accomplishments was to tell the most dramatic and delightful lies.
"I can't say that you answer your own description," replied Gascoigne, ignoring her touching insinuations. "I never saw anyone that looked more fit."
"Ah, appearances are deceitful," rejoined the lady with a sigh; "but how well you are looking—so little changed," another wistful glance.