“All right, Jimmy,” she called out to someone beyond, invisible to Joslin. “I’ll be in right away. Order me a milk-fed, won’t you, and a bottle of pale—with you in just a minute.”
She stepped back into the parlor. Without announcement, Joslin followed on in, and so once more found himself face to face with her.
She stepped back, startled, surprised, frightened almost. “Oh!” she exclaimed; and then frowned. “I didn’t ask for anyone. Who are you?” she demanded.
Then with a sudden revelation she remembered. Yes, pale and hot-eyed as when she had seen him last; it was the same man, the wild man from the mountains!
She could not quite evade him. “What do you want? How did you get in here?” she gasped.
He did not answer at first, and she herself, not knowing what manner of scene might be expected, resourcefully took him by the sleeve and led him far over to the further corner, where a sofa afforded seats for two. She pushed him down into one end of it, and moved as far as possible into the other.
“You don’t remember me?” His voice was broken and hoarse. She nodded.
“Don’t talk so loud. They’ll hear us.”
He seemed unconscious of her warning.