"I assure you, Mrs. Rand," said Breton, "that I've been seeing other splendid things in other countries. Now I'm ready for this one again."
Mrs. Rand was silent and at a loss. Lizzie knew the explanation of this. Her mother had been trying to venture on to the subject of Breton's family and had found unexpected difficulty. Perhaps there had been something in Breton's attitude that had warned her.
They talked for a little while, but disjointedly. Then suddenly there was a knock at the door, and young Mr. Cæsar, a bony youth with a high collar and an unsuccessful moustache, came in. He had not very much to say, but the result of his coming was that Lizzie found herself standing at the window with Breton; they looked at the square now sinking into dusk.
He spoke; his voice was lowered: "I understand that you are secretary to my aunt, Miss Rand?"
"Yes," she said.
"They haven't heard of my return with any great delight, I'm afraid?"
She noticed that he was trying to steady his voice, but that it shook a little in spite of his efforts.
"I don't know," she said, looking up and smiling. "I'm far too busy to think of things that are not my concern."
"They are giving a ball to-morrow night for my cousin?"
"Yes."