“How long were you standing there?” she said, in her bright, quick, animated way, when the first greetings had been exchanged.
“Well, not long—unfortunately. But I hope I have too much of an artistic eye to be in a hurry to break up that picture. Is your uncle in?”
“No. He had to run up to London on business. He wanted to take me, although he always says London is the worst place in the world to take a girl to for the day, unless she’s got a lot of things of her own to attend to—which I haven’t. Says he doesn’t know what to do with her. He more than half wanted me to go—and chance it, but I wouldn’t. I should only have been in the way, of course.”
“That’s a pity. I didn’t want to see him about anything in particular, only as I shall have to be away from England some time, I thought I should just like to see how you were all getting on first.”
If Melian’s face had fallen just a shade over the announcement, the change, it is certain, did not escape the keen perception of the other, nor could he tell why the fact should have afforded him a modicum of gratification.
“I suppose I mustn’t ask, as a matter of innocent and feminine curiosity, what part of the world you are bound for next?” she ventured.
Even that smile as she looked up at him was not sufficient to let down his guard. He shook a deprecating head.
“I’m afraid not. The element of secrecy in my movements is one of the very first essentials.”
“Why, of course. By the way, here am I keeping you standing. Do come inside. But—where’s your bicycle? You didn’t walk?”
“I left my bike up there on the sluice, till I’d found out whether anybody was at home. Save the bother of lugging it up again if nobody was.”