"My dear Jim!" she exclaimed, "really, all this mystery isn't like you. Aren't you overdoing it a little? Do call your friend in, and let me see who he is!"
"Lady Dennisford," I said, "of course, my guest may have misled me; but he seemed to think that an abrupt meeting might be undesirable. He wished me to tell you that he used once to walk with you under the orange trees of Seville, and to ask you to go out to him alone!"
Lady Dennisford sat quite still for several seconds. Her eyes were fixed upon me; but I am quite certain that I had passed from within the orbit of her vision. The things which she saw were of another world—somehow it seemed sacrilege on my part to dream of peering even into the dimmest corner of it. So I looked away, and I could never tell altogether what effect my words had had upon her. For when I looked up, she was gone! …
CHAPTER XIII
THE SHADOW DEEPENS
"Mr. Courage!"
I looked up quickly. She was within a few feet of me, although I had not heard even the rustling of her gown. The dog, with his apple-green bow now put to rights, was sitting upon her shoulder. By the side of his uncanny features, it seemed to me that I had never sufficiently appreciated the fresh girlishness, the almost ingenuous beauty of her own face. She wore a plain, white, linen gown, and a magnificent blossom of scarlet geraniums in her bosom.
"Miss Van Hoyt!" I exclaimed.
She nodded, but glanced warningly at the window.
"They must not hear," she said softly. "Remember your cousin introduced you to me at Lord's—our only meeting."