“For Miss May?”
“Yes, ma’am; and I told him she was married, and did not live here now; and he smiled, and said ‘Of course.’ Then he said he would see you.”
Claire had risen, and she stood listening to the man, clutching the chair tightly, and striving hard to seem composed.
“Where is he, Isaac?” she asked, hardly knowing what fell from her lips.
“In the dining-room, ma’am.”
“I will come down.”
Isaac left the room, and Claire drew a long breath.
Who could it be? Some one who had forgotten that May was married, and then recalled it! What did it mean?
She stood with her hands tightly clasped, gazing straight before her, and then walked quickly to the door, and down into the dining-room, so quietly that the short, slight man gazing out of the window did not hear her entrance.
Claire was puzzled while for the moment she gazed at the attitude of her visitor, whose long black hair fell over the collar of his tightly-buttoned surtout, as he stood with one hand resting upon his hip, the other holding his hat and tasselled cane.