When the maid appeared, Ruth and the visitor were occupying seats next to each other in a retired nook engrossed in a low-voiced conversation. “Comtesse,” said Mrs. Morton, interrupting them, “Nettie will show you to your room. Luncheon will be served in a few minutes.”
When Helène retired, John turned to his mother: “I hope, mother, you will like Comtesse Helène. If you are disengaged before luncheon, I should like to see you. Can you spare the time?”
“Certainly, my dear boy. You will find me in the lounging room. Was the matter that kept you in town disagreeable, John?”
“Not at all, mother. I will tell you all about it. I shall put off my Western trip, however, for the present.”
On his way to his room John was intercepted in the hall by his excited sister. “John,” she hissed breathlessly. “I wouldn’t have believed it of you! How could you be so mean?”
“I don’t understand you, sis. What have I done?”
“Couldn’t you wait until I had brought you two together? Who introduced you to her?”
John looked his astonishment. “Do you refer to Comtesse Rondell? Why, I met her abroad last year, through her father. What are you driving at, little one?”
“Oh, John—this is too wonderful! You big stupid—don’t you see! The Comtesse is my beautiful discovery of two days ago, the replica of papa’s Gainsborough!”
At once John saw everything, even the ambiguous situation in which his darling might find herself.