She had scarcely done this, however, when they both heard the sound of carriage wheels approaching up the avenue, and a minute or so later the hall doorbell rang.
“What a bore!” exclaimed John Temple. “If it is any visitors, say I’m out.”
“Very well,” she answered, but still remained by his side. A few moments later, however, a footman rapped at the room door and then entered, carrying a salver on which lay a card, which he presented to his new master.
John Temple put out his hand carelessly and took it up, but the instant he saw the printed name a quick change came over his face.
“Who is it?” asked Mrs. Temple, sharply, who had noticed the change.
“A man I wish to see—you may show him in here,” he went on, addressing the footman; “and perhaps you,” and he looked at Mrs. Temple, “if you do not mind—”
“You wish me to go?” said Mrs. Temple, quickly. “Very well, I will—only do nothing rash.”
John Temple made no answer to this, and then Mrs. Temple quitted the room, and in the hall she passed a tall, dark man, who was being ushered to the library by the footman.
And a moment later Ralph Webster entered the room. He bowed gravely to John Temple, who also bowed, and a slight flush rose to his face as he did so.
“You are Mr. John Temple, I presume?” then said Webster.