Polly walked in her stateliest way into the dining room.
A young man, tall, and of a very big build, was standing on the hearthrug with his back to the fire. He was frowning darkly, and was evidently in a very bad temper.
“Looks as if he had been born in a hurry on a Monday!” was impertinent Polly’s quick summing up to herself.
She shut the door with a click and advanced into the room.
The young man, who had been regarding his boots, now lifted his eyes and regarded her, and for the space of two or three seconds his exceedingly angry eyes gazed into the girl’s defiant ones while silence reigned.
And thus it was that Valentine Ambleton met pretty Polly Pennington for the first time.
CHAPTER II.
THE FIRST MEETING.
It was the man who spoke first.
“I asked to see Mr. or Mrs. Pennington,” he said, curtly.
“And you have been told,” Polly answered, “that you can see neither, since neither are here to be seen.”