They had both seen Esmeralda extend her hand to Norman, and the kiss which he had bestowed upon it.
Trafford had started, but he was ashamed of his movement of surprise. Why should not Norman kiss Esmeralda’s hand, if he wanted to do so, and if Esmeralda’s did not object. It was Lady Ada’s exclamation which indued the episode with importance.
“Let us go,” she said in a low voice. “They would not like us to watch them.”
“Why not?” he asked, almost roughly.
She did not reply, but looked at him with a tender, almost pitying significance, and glided—Lady Ada was famous for her walk—to the piano. Half mechanically he followed her. If she had not started and remarked upon the kissing of Esmeralda’s hand, he would have thought nothing of it. Now that she had done so, the action assumed larger proportions.
She touched the keys with deft fingers.
“What shall I play to you?” she asked. “Grieg or Chopin? Grieg. I remember your tastes, you see.”
She played with the skill of a well-taught amateur, and the room was flooded with exquisite melody.
“You must not be angry with her, Trafford,” she murmured through the music. “You will make yourself unhappy if you are. Remember, they are old friends.”
“I am not angry,” he said, with a smile; but there was a frown on his brow.