As Captain Protheroe had tasted no food since early morning, the offer was too tempting to be refused.
"Madame, you overwhelm me with kindness," he answered.
She led him to the upper end of the hall, where a table was already laid with three covers.
"Do you always sup in company with two empty chairs, madame?" he asked quizzically.
Barbara flushed crimson and hesitated.
"I—I expected friends, sir," she stammered. Then recovering, she darted a bright glance at him and continued. "And you see my expectations have been fulfilled, for are you not come?"
"Does not another lady dwell here with you?" he queried indifferently.
"Yes—my cousin, Lady Cicely Winslow. But she—she is out," stammered Barbara again nervously.
"Ah! so she is sharing the fellow's hiding-place," muttered the captain to himself. "A piece of folly only possible in a couple of lovers."
Throughout the meal Barbara laughed and chatted gaily, evidently exerting all her efforts to entertain her guest. She led him on to tell strange stories of his adventures and his travels, to which she listened with that eager interest and open admiration of his doings, so dear to the heart of man; she made him laugh heartily at her quick jests and saucy answers, and ever and anon as she talked she raised her dark lashes, and turned upon him the full depths of her wonderful eyes.