“You despise my best efforts to be agreeable.”
“What a disagreeable humor you are in! I declare I think I shall send you away.”
“Well, must I go?” said Webster, rising with a smile.
“Not yet; unless you will promise to come again very soon. Come to supper to meet Linda Falconer and Dereham the day after to-morrow.”
“I will see if I can, if you will allow the invitation to remain open. By the by, how is that affair progressing?”
“Oh, swimmingly, I believe, but Linda is fearfully bored with him. ‘My dear,’ she said to me the other day, ‘he is too silly.’”
“Poor boy!”
“Poor boy, indeed! However, that is settled, and you will come the day after to-morrow to supper? In the meantime, you know, don’t forget my ghost and his probable misdoings.”
“Very well,” said Webster with a laugh. Then he took leave of the actress, and Kathleen Weir was alone.
As she had done once before after he had left her, she immediately went up to one of the mirrors in the room and gazed at her own reflection in the glass.