She remained on the side of his chair, still holding his arm. The Marquis sank back with a little air of relief. There seemed to be something different, something warmer in the world. He was moved by a rare and unaccountable impulse—he drew her towards him and kissed her lips.
"I had a birthday last week," he said, with a very slight smile. "I think that it affected me. One begins to wonder after one has passed middle age, not what there is to look forward to, but how much it is worth while enduring."
"Of course," she declared, with a grimace, "you've been diving into musty old volumes at Mandeleys and reading the mutterings of one of those primitive philosophers who growled at life from a cave."
"I have found myself a little lonely at Mandeleys," he confessed.
"But this visit to London," she persisted. "Is it business? Is there anything wrong?"
"I came to see you."
"My head is going round," she declared. "This is Wednesday. Besides, I thought you were going to stay away until I wrote you—not that I wanted you to."
"I changed my mind," he told her, "in consequence of a visit which I received yesterday from a Mr. James Borden."
She gave vent to an exclamation of dismay.
"You mean that Jimmy has been down to see you?"