The delightful shock of the surprise made her stagger.
"Ask him to come in," she stammered, with no thought of how she looked, though her hands went up to her hair.
As he entered the room she could scarcely recognise him, there was such a thick red mist before her eyes.
"I beg your pardon, gracious Frau," she heard him say in the clear calm tones of a man who has no ignoble dealings. "I should not have disturbed you if your address had been on your card as well as your name. I looked you up in the directory, but being uncertain that there were not others of your name ... I ..."
"You are very kind indeed to have taken so much trouble," she replied, and asked him to sit down.
"I am Dr. Rennschmidt," he said, waiting till she had settled herself in a corner of the sofa before accepting her invitation. He drew the card-case from his pocket and laid it on the table.
She smiled her thanks for his courtesy, and then, as it seemed necessary to her to exaggerate the service he had done her, she told him that she specially valued the little card-case as it was a souvenir of her husband, and she would have been very grieved to lose it.
His face grew a shade graver. There was a pause, in which his eyes rested on her features with a steadfast, questioning, almost searching expression. There was nothing in it of the tentative brazen advances that she knew so well in other masculine eyes. His glance was one of pure, disinterested admiration tinctured with reverence.
"Did we not meet a short time ago on the outskirts of the wood?" she asked warily.
He replied eagerly in the affirmative. "If I had not been so awkward I should have asked your pardon then for playing the eavesdropper. I saw how startled you were ... but at the moment I could think of nothing to do but to make myself scarce. It seemed the kindest course to take from your point of view."