"Do you know whether she ever goes down to a little place in
Shropshire?"
"Yes; I have been with her. Once she took me to your old home." The color crept into Millicent's face. "You don't seem to remember me, Lieutenant Blake."
Blake had learned self-control and he did not start, though he came near doing so as he recalled a scene in which he had taken part some years earlier.
"It would have been inexcusable if I had forgotten you," he responded with a smile. "Still, I couldn't quite place you until a few moments ago, when you faced the light. But you were wrong in one thing: I'm no longer Lieutenant Blake."
She appreciated the frankness which had prompted this warning, and she saw that she had made a tactless blunder, but she looked at him steadily.
"I forgot," she said; "forgive me. I heard of—what happened in India—but I knew that there must have been some mistake." She hesitated for a moment. "I think so now."
Blake made a sudden movement, and then leaned back against the railing.
"I'm afraid that an acquaintance which lasted three or four minutes could hardly enable you to judge: first impressions are often wrong, you know. Anyway, I don't complain of the opinion of gentlemen who knew more about me."
Millicent saw that the subject must be dropped.
"At our first meeting," she said, "I had no opportunity for thanking you; and you gave me none tonight. It's curious that, while I've met you only twice, on both occasions you turned up just when you were needed. Is it a habit of yours?"