CHAPTER VIII
Countess Shulski was seated in her uncle's drawing-room when Lord Tancred was announced.
It was rather a severe room, purely French, with very little furniture, each piece a priceless work of art. There were no touches of feminine influence, no comfortable sofas as in the morning-room or library, all was stiff, and dignified, and in pure style.
She had chosen to receive him there, on purpose. She wished the meeting to be short and cold. He came forward, a look of determination upon his handsome face.
Zara rose as he advanced, and bowed to him. She did not offer to shake hands, and he let his, which he had half outstretched, drop. She did not help him at all; she remained perfectly silent, as usual. She did not even look at him, but straight out of the window into the pouring rain, and it was then he saw that her eyes were not black but slate.
"You understand why I have come, of course?" he said by way of a beginning.
"Yes," she replied and said nothing more.
"I want to marry you, you know," he went on.
"Really!" she said.