“I am glad,” the girl repeated, nervously.
“And until to-night I did not know you lived!”
She mustered up courage enough to ask: “How—?”
The heavy lids drooped lower over the illegible eyes. “My attention was called to a newspaper advertisement signed by a firm of solicitors. I got in touch with them—a matter of some difficulty, since it was after business hours—and found out where to look for you. Then, prevented from acting as quickly as I wished, myself, I sent Karslake here to bring you to me.”
“But, according to their letter, the solicitors thought I was in France, in a convent!”
“When they advertised for me—yes. But by the time I enquired they were better informed.”
“But the advertisement was addressed to Michael Lanyard!”
The thin lips formed a faint smile. “That was once my name. I no longer use it.”
Against a feeling that she was adopting an attitude both undutiful and unbecoming, Sofia persisted.
“Why?”