“Now isn’t this nice!” that lady exclaimed. “I’m sure we’re all delighted to see you again, Mr. Hill. I do like to see old friends back here. If there’s any one here whom you have not met I will make you acquainted with them after dinner. Will you take your old place by Miss Ellicot.”
Miss Ellicot swept aside her skirts from the vacant chair and welcomed the newcomer with one of her most engaging smiles.
“We were afraid that you had deserted us for good, Mr. Hill,” she said graciously. “I suppose Paris is very, very distracting. You must come and tell me all about it, although I am not sure whether we shall forgive you for not having written to any of us.”
Mr. Hill was exchanging greetings with his hostess, and salutations around the table.
“Thank you, ma’am. Glad to get back, I’m sure,” he said briskly. “Looks like old times here, I see. Sorry I’m a bit late the first evening. Got detained in the City, and——”
Then he met the fixed, breathless gaze of those wonderful eyes from the other side of the table, and he, too, broke off in the middle of his sentence. He breathed heavily, as though he had been running. His large, coarse lips drew wider apart. Slowly a mirthless and very unpleasant smile dawned upon his face.
“Great Scott!” he exclaimed huskily. “Why—it’s—it’s you!”
Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. The girl regarded him with the face of a Sphinx. Only in her eyes there seemed to be some apprehension of the fact that the young man’s clothes and manners were alike undesirable things.
“Are you speaking to me?” she asked calmly. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake. I am quite sure that I do not know you.”
A dull flush burned upon his cheeks. He took his seat at the table, but leaned forward to address her. A note of belligerency had crept into his tone.