When Hal had poured her tale of woe into Lorraine’s ear, she had known that Lorraine was genuinely interested and sorry—and yet, also, that something else occupied her mind at the same time. Sitting now, opposite to Sir Edwin Crathie, it was perfectly apparent for the time being that his mind was entirely at her service.
This was further shown by the fact that he realised something was worrying her before she told him.
“What’s the matter?” he asked abruptly; “you look as if something very boring had happened.”
“It has.”
Hal kept her eyes lowered a moment, with a thoughtful air, and the corners of the fascinating mouth drooped a little.
“What has happened?... Tell me what is bothering you.”
He spoke peremptorily, yet with an evident concern for her that made the peremptory tone dangerously alluring. Hal remained silent, though she felt her pulses quicken, and he added:
“Come, we are going to be friends again; aren’t we? I’ve told you I’m very sorry; I can’t do more. You will really have to forgive me now.”
She looked into his face, and something in his eyes told her he was quite genuine for the time. Of course it might be rash, and unwise, and various other things, but it had been a difficult, trying week, and his sympathy was passing good now. Sir Edwin met her gaze for a moment, and then lowered his.
He thought it was chiefly when her eyes laughed that he wanted to kiss her, but when they had that serious, rather appealing expression, he began to feel they were more disturbing still. Mastering his unmanageable senses with an effort, he looked up again, and said: