Davlin, whose first thought had been that the open door was to welcome his approach, realized in an instant as he gazed upon Madeline, that he was about to be defied. There was no mistaking the expression of the face, so white and set. He elevated his eyebrows in an elaborate display of astonishment.
"Just in time, I should say," removing his hat with mock courtesy, and stepping across the threshold. "Not going out without an escort, my dear? Surely not. Really, I owe a debt of gratitude to my friends down town, for boring me so insufferably, else I should have missed you, I fear."
No answer; no change in the face or attitude of the girl before him.
"Close that door, sir, and take yourself off," he said, turning to Henry.
Remembering her words, "You can serve me best here," Henry bowed with unusual humility, and went out.
"There, smiling and insouciant, stood Lucian Davlin!"—[page 88.]
"I don't think she is afraid of him," he muttered, as he went down the hall; "anyhow, I won't be far away, in case she needs me."