"Oh, it is you; I thought it was Blair," she said. "Where is he?—not back yet?"
Austin Ambrose bit his lip, and a savage light shot into his eyes.
"Always Blair!" he said softly. "No; he is not in yet."
"And why do you come here at this unearthly hour?" she demanded, pettishly.
"Violet, I have come to answer a question you have often asked me, and I have often parried. I have come to demand of you the reward you have promised me for the services I have rendered you."
She looked up at him in silent astonishment
"Question—reward! What are you talking about? Why do you look so strange?"
"Do I look strange? Forgive me. It is the only time I have allowed my countenance to incommode you. Have you forgotten—is it necessary to remind you of your promise? Is it necessary to remind you for what that promise was given? Ah, yes, I suppose so. Men and women have short memories. Violet, have you forgotten the day I undertook that you should be Blair's wife?"
Her face paled, but she laughed.
"How melodramatic you are. Of course. I was a poor little woman who set her heart upon something, and you were the clever man who offered to help me. Pray do not look so serious."