“But you ought not to have come!” she went on, slowly, when he did not speak.
Topham shook his head. “You knew I would come,” he declared, meaningly.
The countess flushed, and Topham pushed the fight. “Did you not know it?” he demanded.
Changing emotion swept across the countess’s mobile face. Surprise, indignation, panic succeeded each other and at last gave place to an expression hard to define. She flushed, trembled slightly; and her eyes dropped before those of the man who still held her hand.
“Yes!” she breathed. “Yes! I knew.”
“Ahem!” An elderly lady had risen and came forward and seemed somewhat amazed by the scene. “Ahem! Ahem!” she coughed, and then more violently, “Ahem!”
The countess started. One would have said that she had forgotten her companion, which was singular for a girl brought up under the duenna system, however much she might have emancipated herself. Then she turned. “You know the Baroness Ostersacken, Mr. Topham,” she said.
Topham bowed. “Yes!” he said. “I know.”
“Ach! Gott!” The baroness seemed confused. “You are welcome, Herr Topham,” she declared. “Will you not be seated?”
The countess led the way to a window beside which two chairs were placed, while the baroness, waddling back to the seat some distance away, from which she had risen, picked up some fancy work.