He was so much surprised that for the moment he could scarcely greet her. He at once guessed that she had something to tell which he should not care to hear.
“You didn’t expect to see me, did you, Mr. Buckland? I guess you are about as surprised as if the Empress of Morocco had looked in.”
“I didn’t expect this pleasure, certainly. It is all the greater,” stammered Gerard, as he offered her a chair, and ordered some tea.
“No, don’t you trouble to get me any tea. I’ve had some,” said the good lady, as she settled herself in his best arm-chair, and looked round the room. “And so these are bachelor chambers, are they? And do you do your own house-keeping, Mr. Buckland?”
“Some of it,” said Gerard, smiling. “Not always very successfully.”
“I wonder you don’t suit yourself with a wife, Mr. Buckland?”
“I’ve had thoughts of it sometimes. But on the whole—”
“They tell me,” and she suddenly turned upon him a pair of eyes which he saw to be full of unexpected shrewdness, “that you had thoughts of Miss Davison.”
He grew pale at the remark.
“Unfortunately she had no thoughts of me,” he said hurriedly.