“It will be ready for you the moment you return from taking off your hat. I’ll go up with you to your room; Mr. Courtland knows that even I make myself at home in this house. He will pardon us.”
“I mustn’t keep the fly waiting for my portmanteau,” said Mr. Courtland. “If you will allow me, I shall look to it now, and say good-night.”
“What! Oh, you mustn’t think of running off in this way,” said Ella. “What reason had you for returning at all if you run off at this hour?”
“It is getting quite late. I mustn’t keep the good people of the Old Bell up on my account,” said he. “Besides, a man represents a certain inharmonious element upon such an occasion as this. Miss Ayrton returned expecting to be with you alone. I know the disabilities of a man quite well. Yes, I must say good-night.”
“Nonsense! Pray talk to him, Phyllis,” cried Ella. “You may make him amenable to reason.”
But Phyllis stood mute with her hand on the handle of the door; she only smiled, and there is neither reason nor argument in a smile.
“Good-night!” said he.
“Oh, well, if you really have nothing to say to either of us,—to either Phyllis or me,—you had better go, I suppose,” said Ella, giving him her hand, but she did not look at him in the face while his hand was touching hers.
Curiously enough, neither did Phyllis look at him as was her wont.
And so he left them that night.