"Dr Dudley," Mona said impulsively, in a very low voice, "what have I done?"
The same honest eyes as of old—the eyes that had smiled and deceived him.
"Done?" he said coldly, with an accent of surprise. "Nothing whatsoever. I was under a stupid misapprehension as to the terms on which we stood; but I have long since seen my mistake. That is all."
He was annoyed with her for opening the subject there and then,—forgetting that women cannot always choose their opportunities,—but even as he spoke, his lips quivered; a terrible struggle was concealed beneath the calmness of his manner. One word more from her might have dragged aside the flimsy veil; but she, too, had her pride.
"Well, I am afraid I must go," she said, as Miss Davidson returned to her remaining guests. "Don't let me hurry you, Lucy; I must get that book you mentioned out of the library, Dr Dudley."
She bowed to him with a frank cordiality that was far more cutting than his coldness, shook hands with her hostess, and went away. Lucy, of course, accompanied her, and Dudley was left to reap what he had sown.
But Mona could not bear even Lucy's society to-day, and she made an excuse for parting from her before they had gone many hundred yards. Then her lithe figure straightened itself defiantly.
"Two chances I have given him," she said to herself; "and now, come what come may, he shall make the third himself!"
When Mona came in from hospital a few days later, she was met by the announcement that a gentleman had called to see her, and had said he would return in the evening.
"Did he leave no name?" she asked in some surprise.