She never knew just when to expect him, for he would never give her the satisfaction of making an appointment to call, giving professional duties as an excuse for not doing so.
Sally arrayed herself in her best every evening, and looked out from behind the lace-draped windows until the great clock in the hall chimed the hour of nine; then, in an almost ungovernable rage, she would go up to her room, and her mother and Louisa would be made to suffer for her disappointment.
On the day in question she had seen Jay Gardiner coming up the stone steps, and was ready to meet him with her gayest smile, her jolliest laugh.
"It is always the unexpected which happens, Jay," she said, holding out both her lily-white hands. "Welcome, a hundred times welcome!"
He greeted her gravely. He could not have stooped and kissed the red lips that were held up to him if the action would have saved his life.
He was so silent and distrait during the time, that Sally said:
"Aren't you well this morning, Jay, or has something gone wrong with you?" she asked, at length.
"I do feel a trifle out of sorts," he replied. "But pardon me for displaying my feelings before—a lady."
"Don't speak in that cold, strange fashion, Jay," replied the girl, laying a trembling hand on his arm. "You forget that I have a right to know what is troubling you, and to sympathize with and comfort you."
He looked wistfully at her.