“Social affairs always have an attraction for me,” replied Kenyon. “I like to meet people and exchange ideas with them. The general effect is freshening, I think.”
The girl had recovered somewhat from her first astonishment.
“How foolish of me to be surprised,” she smiled; “of course you were among those asked. I recall it distinctly now.”
Kenyon regarded her with fresh interest. There was the same appealing air about her that he had noticed in Selden’s Square; a girlish sweetness and helplessness that drew one powerfully. But he had noticed another thing. The sweetness and innocence, if anything, increased when she spoke of her recollection of his being asked there that night.
“It might be a hallucination of hers, of course,” thought Kenyon, as his keen eyes searched the girl’s face. “But I’m not sure of it.”
“Will you sit on the stairs with me?” asked Anna. Her teeth were of dazzling whiteness, and her manner full of sudden witchery. “I know it’s very silly and school-girlish, but I’ve always liked it.”
“A fascinating place,” said Kenyon, as he sat at her feet. “Unnoticed we can speed the parting guests through the rails. It’s one of the discoveries of college days that are really worth while.”
She laughed a little at this. The light in her eyes danced softly and girlishly. But for all her smiles Kenyon thought he saw a tightening at the corners of her mouth. It was as though she were possessed of a nervous dread of some sort.
“I fancy,” thought the ex-lieutenant of Nunez, “that I have been inopportune in some way.”
“You are not going to-night, then?” said Anna, eagerly.