Bella knew that she was very early, and she came down slowly, drawing a long glove up her slim, bare arm. When she reached the square window on the lower landing, she stopped, laid the other glove on the sill, and proceeded to button the one she had on. A slight noise in the hall below made her lean her arms on the broad, polished sill of the opening, and look down.
A man stood by a table facing her, but with eyes bent upon the books he was turning over—a man rather over medium height, sunburnt, with a lean, clean-shaven face, fair hair, and clean cut mouth and chin. That was all she had time to take in before he raised his eyes.
“Oh!” ejaculated Bella, involuntarily, and then after meeting a moment longer the wide, unwinking, upward look, “How do you do!” she said.
“How do you do,” echoed the sunburnt man, and he did not bow nor move; just stood looking at the picture up there on the wall.
Miss Bella was not as a rule easily embarrassed, but she was conscious now of feeling a little at a loss.
“I don’t know exactly why I am in such a hurry to say ‘how do you do,’ that I can’t wait till I come down. But I do know you, don’t I?”
“Of course you know me”; but that time he smiled, and Bella said to herself, how could I have forgotten anybody so—so—
She picked up her glove with the intention of running down. But, I expect I look rather nice here in the window, she reflected, and instead of going down instantly she said: “It’s some time since I was here before.”
“Yes, it’s a long time,” he answered. His tone pleased her.
“And I run about the world such a lot, I can’t be expected to remember everybody’s name just all at once, can I?”