“Nonsense! That’s an old granny’s reason.”
“Can’t help it if it is. There is only one alternative and that is to kiss a fool. You would not exactly class yourself in that category, would you?” turning on her elbow to look at her sister. “Of course if you insist—” and Hester leaned toward her.
Julie gave her a push. “You idiot! go kiss yourself in a mirror.” But the doorbell rang.
Julie bounced from her chair and fled down the hall. Hester stifled her desire to laugh and opened the door on a tall, well-built man who stared as he beheld her.
“Why—this is Mr. Renshawe, is it not?” the girl said with perfect composure though inwardly amazed at seeing him. “Won’t you come in?”
“How do you do—thanks—I—that is—” he stammered helplessly.
“You wish to see my sister, of course,” ushering him in. “We did not meet the other night at Mrs. Lennox’s, did we? but you see I heard about you afterward. I’ll go and call my sister.”
“Oh! no, don’t, please, I beg of you. I must apologize for this impertinent intrusion—I’ve made some abominable mistake!” In the hand in which he was nervously twisting his hat, Hester caught a glimpse of one of their business cards and in a flash the whole purport of his visit was made clear to her.
“I do not think it is a mistake,” she said naturally. “I imagine you have come to see us on business, have you not? Won’t you sit down, Mr. Renshawe?”
“Oh, may I? Thanks. Do you do business?” he gasped incredulously, glancing from the piquant girl about the pretty room where no suggestion of anything like work was visible.