He handed her into the car with the grace of a courtier, and she smiled upon him serenely, as a princess might have smiled in the days when knighthood was in flower.
When she sat him down at his little garden gate, he put the question that had been seething in his mind all the way down the shady stretch they had traversed.
"Have you ever seen Hetty Glynn, the English actress?"
Sara was always prepared. She knew the question would come when least expected.
"Oh, yes," she replied, with interest. "Have you noticed the resemblance? They are as like as two peas in a pod. Isn't it extraordinary?"
He was a bit staggered. "I have never seen Hetty Glynn," he replied.
"Oh? You have seen photographs of her?" she inquired casually.
"What has become of her?" he asked, ignoring her question. "Is she still on the stage?"
"Heaven knows," she replied lightly. "Miss Castleton and I were speaking of her last night. We were together the last time I saw her. Who knows? She may have married into the nobility by this time. She was a very poor actress, but the loveliest thing in the world—excepting OUR Hetty, of course."
If he could have seen the troubled look in her eyes as she was whirled off to the village, he might not have gone about the cottage with such a blithesome air. He was happier than he had been in days, and all because of Hetty Glynn!