"He is different, that is all. This afternoon he will come to tea. I shall want you to be with us. Remember, not a word of this disgraceful affair."
"Ah, Elsa, I am afraid; I am more afraid of Warrington than of a man of Craig's type."
"And why?"
"It sounds foolish, but I can't explain. I am just afraid of him."
"Bother! You talk like an old maid."
"And I am one, by preference."
"We are always quarreling, Martha; and it doesn't do either of us any good. When you oppose me, I find that that is the very thing I want to do. You haven't any diplomacy."
"I would gladly cultivate it if I thought it would prove effectual," was the retort.
"Try it," advised Elsa dryly.
Warrington's appearance that afternoon astonished Elsa. She had naturally expected some change, but scarcely such elegance. He was, without question, one of the handsomest men she had ever met. He was handsomer than Arthur because he was more manly in type. Arthur himself, an exquisite in the matter of clothes, could not have improved upon this man's taste or selection. What a mystery he was! She greeted him cordially, without restraint; but for all that, a little shiver stirred the tendrils of hair at the nape of her neck.