“Why have you come here?” she said, suddenly, in a strained voice.
He raised his pale eyebrows.
“Here—on the terrace, do you mean, Lady Grace?” he said, in a voice of an innocent, unsophisticated child; “surely you forget. You, yourself, asked me!”
“Why have you come here?” she repeated.
Without changing his expression or his attitude of bland, serene enjoyment, he murmured:
“I came because I thought you wanted me—and you do!”
CHAPTER IX.
A SECRET COMPACT.
“I came because I thought you wanted me, and you do,” said Spenser Churchill, softly.
Lady Grace looked at him, with an expression of dislike and fear—actual fear. It displayed itself in every line of the fair, perfectly-formed face, in the expansion of her clear eyes, in the tight—almost painful—compression of her slim, white hands.