“How very sad!” commented Kate, while the feeling crept over her that here was a man who had about him a great mystery. It was the one thing lacking to make him irresistibly fascinating to a girl who was surfeited with men about whom there was nothing new to learn.
“Perhaps,” went on the Rexanian, brushing the dark locks back from his forehead with a white, tapering hand, “perhaps you will take pity on me, Miss Strong, and give me courage for my walk to-night by the prospect of a stroll with you to-morrow afternoon?”
He was not quite sure that, even in the land of liberty, this proposition would be considered good form, but his mood had grown somewhat reckless under the pressure of events.
“Thank you,” answered Kate, frankly. “It will give me great pleasure to show you something of our city. I shall expect you about three o’clock.” She held out her hand to him as he arose to make his adieux.
Ned Strong had succumbed, as had his parents and sister, to the magnetism of their guest.
“I should be pleased to look you up to-morrow morning, Count Szalaki,” he said cordially. “If you are fond of driving, I’ll stop at the hotel with my cart before noon.”
“That is very charming,” cried the Rexanian. “You have all been so kind to me. I cannot find terms in which to express my gratitude.” The hand-clasp he gave his host and hostess proved the sincerity of his words.
He was gone, and Ned Strong stood looking at his sister.
“You promised me, Kate,” he said playfully, “that you would tell me what you thought of him. Now is the appointed time.”