"It's so good of you to see me," he began, "so awfully good, you know."
She held out her hand. She was trying not to be agitated. It seemed to her that she was very weak because at sight of this Englishman her pulses began to flutter. She sat down on one side of the hearth; he continued standing. He laughed slightly, and said he believed he was getting nervous; he'd rather stand; no, on the whole he'd sit. So he sat down also.
"I say, Miss Ffolliott," he spoke hurriedly, "I hope you'll pardon me for calling, you know. I was going to be in town, and I hunted up your address. Is—is your cousin, Miss Prudence, with you?"
"No."
Carolyn found it at first a simple impossibility to add more. The very strength of her wish to give the information concerning her cousin in a matter-of-fact way prevented her from doing so.
Lord Maxwell leaned forward with his hands on his knees. His large, prominent eyes were fixed on the fire.
"You were anxious about Lady Maxwell when I saw you last," now said Carolyn.
"Yes; I remember. She died; yes, she died, you know." The gentleman sat up straight. "We did everything we could, but it wasn't any use. I didn't feel like going back to England. Her mother went. I've been out to the Rockies; been hunting no end,—big game, you know; but, somehow, I didn't care much. My wife was a good woman, Miss Ffolliott."
Carolyn made an inarticulate murmur in response.
"Yes," he went on, "I came right here. Thought I'd call and see old friends, you know. Made sure you could tell me where Miss Prudence Ffolliott is. Can you?"