‘Were you very much surprised when I asked you for an interview, Miss Llewellyn?’ he commenced.
‘I was, rather. Because I cannot think what you can possibly have to say to me. We have but one subject of interest in common—Ilfracombe—and he is quite well and happy. Else, I might have frightened myself by imagining you had some bad news to tell me concerning him.’
Jack Portland looked at her rather curiously as he replied,—
‘Oh, no, the old chap’s all right. How often do you hear from him now? Every day. Is that the ticket?’
‘I hear constantly,’ replied Miss Llewellyn in a dignified tone. ‘I had a letter yesterday. I was in hopes he might have fixed the date of his return, but he says his friends will not be persuaded to let him go, so that he shall be detained in Malta longer than he expected.’
‘Ah! his friends are the Abingers, of course,’ said Mr Portland, sticking his glass in his eye, the better to observe her features.
‘Perhaps. He did not mention them by name,’ she replied, ‘but I daresay you are right. However, he is sure to be home for the pheasant-shooting.’
‘Doubtless,’ replied Mr Portland, ‘unless his friends persuade him to go somewhere else. But what are you going to do with yourself meanwhile, Miss Llewellyn?’
‘I? Oh, I shall remain in town till his return, and then I suppose we shall go to the Highlands as usual. Ilfracombe wants me to go away at once to some watering-place to recruit, but I should be wretched there by myself. I shall wait for him at home. He is sure to come straight to London, because all his things are here.’
She was looking as handsome as paint that day. The long drive had tinged her face with a soft pink, and her lovely hazel eyes were humid with emotion, engendered by her subject. Her rich hair had become somewhat disordered by the open air and the haste with which she had removed her hat, and was ruffled and untidy. But that only added to her charms. What pretty woman ever looked so well with neatly arranged hair, as when it is rumpled and blown about? She was half sitting, half reclining on the sofa, and her fine figure was shewn to the best advantage. Portland’s eyes glistened as he gazed at her. What a handsome hostess she would make—what a presider over the destinies of his bachelor establishment! How proud he would be to introduce her to his sporting and Bohemian friends—the only friends whom he affected, and be able to tell them that this glorious creature was his own! He became so excited by the idea that he dashed into the subject rather suddenly.