"You must do nothing of the kind. It was all my fault. I declare I'm downright sorry."
It would have been one of the prettiest voices I had ever heard but for the Yankee twang that spoiled it. I hastened to assure her that I could not let her take the blame upon herself, and once more begged to be allowed to sponge the tea off her dress. This, however, she would not permit me to do.
"It won't hurt," she assured me for the twentieth time, "and if it did, it's an old dress, so don't bother yourself. But now, look here, you've been deprived of your tea, and that's not fair at all. Say, won't you come right along to our verandah and take a cup with us? You're English, I know, and it's real nice to have somebody who speaks our own tongue to talk to. Promise 'Yes' right away and we'll be off."
There was something so frank about her that, though I didn't at all want to go, I could not resist her. So putting the remnants of the cup and saucer back upon the tray I accepted the invitation and accompanied them round the hotel garden to their own verandah on the other side. As I went I kept my eyes open for any sign of Alie, but though I thought I saw her once I presently found I was mistaken. I could not help wondering what she would think if she met me in this girl's company. However, as I had let myself in for it I had nobody to thank but myself.
When we reached the ladies' quarters we found tea prepared. Before we sat down, however, the younger lady said, without a shadow of embarrassment—
"I reckon, before we begin, we'd better do a little introducing, don't you? This lady (she pointed to her companion) is my very kind friend Mrs. Beecher, of Boston, with whom I am travelling; you've probably heard of Beecher's patent double-action sofa springs, I reckon? I am Kate Sanderson, of New York, only daughter of millionaire Sanderson, of Wall Street, whom I guess you've heard all about too. So you see we're both of the United States of America, and very much at your service."
"I am very glad to have met you," I answered. "My name is De Normanville, and I hail from London."
"Not Dr. De Normanville, of Cavendish Square, surely?"
"Yes, the same. Cavendish Square was my London address two years ago. But how do you come to know it?"
"Well, now, if that isn't real extraordinary! I thought I recognised you directly I set eyes on you. But it's mighty plain you don't remember me! That's not much of a compliment any way you look at it. Is it, Mrs. Beecher?"