“Really?” he queried.
She nodded. “Really. I am sure I could.”
“Come then,” said John.
They advanced towards the ladder. At the foot thereof she paused.
“Shan’t we be disturbing him?” she queried.
“Not a bit of it,” laughed John. “He’ll merely be flattered at your interest. He’ll adore an audience.”
The situation had for him the hint of an adventure. To have told her curtly,—or suavely, for that matter,—that it was impossible for her to see those paintings would have resulted in her leaving the church. There could have been no possible excuse for her remaining. This thought justified him in suggesting the venture. Naturally it was an infinitely greater venture in his eyes than in Rosamund’s. That is probably understood without need of my mentioning the fact.
John, in advance, reached the first platform; turned, took her hand firmly in his, and drew her to safety. A second time was this feat accomplished in like manner.
“Hullo!” exclaimed Corin, surprised at the double apparition.
“Allow me,” said John, “to present my friend, Mr. Elmore. Miss Delancey wanted to see the paintings.”