St. John looked the tiniest shade put out, the waiter stared, and a good-looking man with a lightish moustache who happened to be passing their table at the moment glanced down at the small grey figure in careless amusement. Jill flushed, suddenly conscious of having said the wrong thing, and the man behind her, looking from her to her companion and recognising the latter, wondered what country cousin St. John had got hold of now.
“I don’t know much about it,” she admitted in a slightly vexed tone, “but I liked what we had here before.”
St. John gave his order; then he looked into the troubled grey eyes opposite and smiled reassuringly. As he did so he caught sight of the man near Jill’s chair; he was about to seat himself at the next table, but before he could do so St. John rose and intercepted him.
“Markham!” he exclaimed. “This is luck. I thought you were abroad.”
“Only returned last night,” the other answered shaking hands. “Glad to see you again, St. John. All well at home?”
“I don’t know,” St. John replied; “haven’t been there lately. Come over to our table, old boy; we wanted someone to drink our health.”
Markham elevated his eyebrows in a show of surprise. St. John had hold of him by the arm, and he allowed himself to be drawn forward until he stood facing the little girl in grey, not quite clear even then as to how matters stood.
“Jill,” exclaimed her husband, “allow me to introduce you to Mr Markham, a very old pal of mine.”
Jill held out her hand with a smile. She was a little disappointed that St. John had so readily ended their tête-à-tête luncheon, but she carefully refrained from letting him see it, and graciously seconded the invitation which the stranger appeared by no means reluctant to accept. He took the seat on her right hand and looked her over with a glance that was at once curious and puzzled. She was a lady that was evident, though different in most respects to those he was accustomed to meet; what he could not rightly fix was the relationship between her and St. John. When he left England he had understood that the latter was to marry his cousin—it had been for that reason that he had gone abroad—and yet a moment ago St. John had distinctly asked him to ‘drink our health.’ Whose health? And why?
“This is a very festive occasion you are participating in, Markham,” St. John observed gaily. “It is my wedding day. As the only guest present we look to you for a speech.”