“Strange!” nodded the doctor, “very strange. And in spite of this she came to see you again?”
“Yes, two evenings later, without any warning, she burst into my studio about nine o'clock.”
“In a red dress?”
“Yes.”
“And a black hat?”
“Yes.”
“Good Lord, it's true!” muttered Owen. “Go on, my boy. I want the details. This may be exceedingly important. Go right through the scene from the beginning.”
After a moment of perplexed silence, Christopher continued: “When I say she burst in, that about expresses it. She was like a whirlwind, a red, laughing, fascinating whirlwind. I had never seen her half so beautiful—so alluring. I was mad about her and—half afraid of her.”
“Hm!” grunted Owen. “What did she do?”
“Do? She did a lot of things. In the first place she apologized for having been so silly the time before—after the ball. She said she was ill then, she didn't want to talk about it. Now she had come to make amends—that was the idea.”