CHAPTER VII.
Goldsmith followed the direction of her eyes and saw that their object was a man in the uniform of an officer, who was chatting with Mrs. Abingdon. He was a showily handsome man, though his face bore evidence of some dissipated years, and there was an undoubted swagger in his bearing.
Meanwhile Goldsmith watched him. The man caught sight of Miss Horneck and gave a slight start, his jaw falling for an instant—only for an instant, however; then he recovered himself and made an elaborate bow to the girl across the room.
Goldsmith turned to Miss Horneck and perceived that her face had become white; she returned very coldly the man's recognition, and only after the lapse of some seconds. Goldsmith possessed naturally both delicacy of feeling and tact. He did not allow the girl to see that he had been a witness of a rencontre which evidently was painful to her; but he spoke to her sister, who was amusing her husband by a scarcely noticeable imitation of a certain great lady known to both of them; and, professing himself woefully ignorant as to the personnel of the majority of the people who were present, inquired first what was the name of a gentleman wearing a star and talking to a group of apparently interested ladies, and then of the officer whom he had seen make that elaborate bow.
Mrs. Bunbury was able to tell him who was the gentleman with the star, but after glancing casually at the other man, she shook her head.
“I have never seen him before,” she said. “I don't think he can be any one in particular. The people whom we don't know are usually nobodies—until we come to know them.”
“That is quite reasonable,” said he. “It is a distinction to become your friend. It will be remembered in my favour when my efforts as Professor at the Academy are forgotten.”
His last sentence was unheard, for Mrs. Bunbury was giving all her attention to her sister, of whose face she had just caught a glimpse.