“Most assuredly.”
“Then we are the best friends in the world again. This is a great deal better than meeting and pretending to ignore the very thing of which our minds are full. You will not delay visiting us any longer now, I hope.”
“I will call on your father to-morrow morning. May I?”
“He is out of town until Monday. He will be delighted to see you then. He has been talking to me about you a great deal of late. But if you want to see him in the morning you had better go to the club. I will write to him to-night if you like; so that he can write to you and make an appointment.”
“Do. Ah, Marian, instinct is better and truer than intellect. I have been for two years trying to believe all kinds of evil of you; and yet I knew all the time that you were an angel.”
Marian laughed. “I suppose that under our good understanding I must let you say pretty things to me. You must write me a sonnet before your enthusiasm evaporates. I am sure I deserve it as well as Clytemnestra.”
“I will. But I fear I shall tear it up for its unworthiness afterward.”
“Dont: I am not a critic. Talking of critics, where has Mrs. Leith Fairfax gone to? Oh, there she is!”
Mrs. Fairfax came up when she saw Marian look round for her. “My dear,” she said: “it is past six. We must go. Elinor may be waiting for us.”
They found Elinor seated in the vestibule with Conolly, at whom Mrs. Fairfax plunged, full of words. Conolly and Douglas, introduced to one another by Marian, gravely raised their hats. When they had descended the stairs, they stood in a group near one of the doors whilst Conolly went aside to get their umbrellas. Just then Marmaduke Lind entered the building, and halted in surprise at finding himself among so many acquaintances.