They were early, so they had their choice of a table, and seated themselves near enough to the little orchestra for the music to help to cover their conversation, which they knew was going to be serious.
It was some time, however, before Gerard dared to broach the subject upon which Miss Davison had promised to enlighten him.
He could not very well say, “And now for an explanation!” but had to wait her good pleasure.
Miss Davison, however, seemed to have forgotten the reason of their meeting. She chatted gaily, ate buttered scones hungrily, saying that she had been too hard at work to have any luncheon, and enjoyed herself in looking about her, which she did with a certain keenness which was not at all like the casual glance of the ordinary girl out to tea.
It was not until they had nearly finished tea, and when there was a short silence, that Gerard dared to say—
“I have been thinking all night about our meeting yesterday, and about what you said to me.”
He was nervous, agitated. Miss Davison clasped her hands, and turned to him superbly—
“And what was that?” she asked.
But he would not be silenced like that. Gathering all his courage, he said—
“You know you promised me an explanation of—of what I told you I saw—that night—in front of Lord Chislehurst’s—in the crowd.”