He threw her away from him with a laugh, and the sombre fire died out of his eyes.
‘Bah!’ he said, gaily, ‘our comedy is turning into a tragedy; I am as foolish as you; I think,’ significantly, ‘we understand one another.’
‘Yes, I think we do,’ she answered, calmly, the colour coming back to her cheek. ‘Neither of us are to refer to the past, and we both go on our different roads unhindered.’
‘Mademoiselle Marchurst,’ said Vandeloup, ceremoniously, ‘I am delighted to meet you after a year’s absence—come,’ with a gay laugh, ‘let us begin the comedy thus, for here,’ he added quickly, as the door opened, ‘here comes the spectators.’
‘Well, young people,’ said Madame’s voice, as she came slowly into the room, ‘you are all in the dark; ring the bell for lights, M. Vandeloup.’
‘Certainly, Madame,’ he answered, touching the electric button, ‘Miss Marchurst and myself were renewing our former friendship.’
‘How do you think she is looking?’ asked Madame, as the servant came in and lit the gas.
‘Charming,’ replied Vandeloup, looking at the dainty little figure in white standing under the blaze of the chandelier; ‘she is more beautiful than ever.’
Kitty made a saucy little curtsey, and burst into a musical laugh.
‘He is just the same, Madame,’ she said merrily to the tall, grave woman in black velvet, who stood looking at her affectionately, ‘full of compliments, and not meaning one; but when is dinner to be ready?’ pathetically, ‘I’m dying of starvation.’