"But I still don't know who the old colonel is," interjected Lilly, feeling a little uncomfortable at his mysterious prognostications.
"Then don't ask," he answered, and held out his freckled hand in farewell. "It's really a pity," he added, blinking at her through his half-closed light eyelashes with tender compassion. "We might have given history another famous pair of lovers."
He leant over the counter. "As I am a man totally devoid of any moral sense, may I borrow a kiss before I go?"
Lilly laughed and held up her mouth in reply.
He kissed her, and then dragged himself stiffly to the door.
"I can't run," he said. "Last night's banquet has made me a bit lazy," and he was gone.
The same feeling of uneasiness, which Lilly had felt after her lively comrade's first visit, took possession of her again. She felt as if someone was playfully lashing her with switches. Her anxiety caused her torment mingled with pleasure. It was as if behind a closed golden door her unknown fate crouched ready to spring on her--its prey.
CHAPTER XI
The midday December sunlight made the hilt of a sword and the buttons of a uniform glitter in the street outside.
"Some one fresh," Lilly thought, for the upright bull-necked figure of the man clanking up the terrace steps was unfamiliar to her.