Nicholas Danver looked at her as she entered, an odd expression on his face.
He might never have moved from his chair since the day she had last seen him, thought Trix. The only difference in the surroundings was a crackling wood fire now burning on the big hearth.
“Well, Miss Devereux,” he said, holding out his hand.
“You don’t mind my having come?” queried Trix. “No one saw me.”
A slight look of relief passed over Nicholas’s face.
“I think I am glad you’ve come,” he said. “Sit down, please.”
Trix sat down. Her hands were tightly clasped within her muff. She was still beating back that quite unaccountable nervousness.
“You had a particular reason for coming to see me?” suggested Nicholas.
Trix nodded.