"Yes," he said. "Gilbert Baynton—very much at your service——?"
"—Mrs. Winslow," she said hurriedly. "I'm Mrs. Winslow now." She saw that the name conveyed nothing to him. "Do come in," she went on pleasantly, "if only for a moment, Mr. Baynton. Though it's early for tea, perhaps you'll stay and have a cup with me? I had no idea you were in England! I suppose you're staying with Laura, at The Chase?"
He shook his head, the smile faded from his face, and Katty, who was observant, saw that her question was ill-timed.
"It's delightful—seeing an old friend again, and I was feeling so bored—all by myself!"
As he followed her into the house, Gillie told himself that this was distinctly amusing—quite good fun! It would take the horrible taste of his interview with that—that brute—out of his mouth.
He looked round the little hall with quick interest and curiosity. There was no sign of a man about, only a lady's slender walking-stick and a bright red parasol, in the umbrella-stand. Was pretty little Katty a widow? Somehow she did not look like a widow!
She opened a door which gave out of the hall on the left, and called out, "Harber? I should like tea in about five minutes."
Then she shut the door, and led the way down the little hall, and through into her sitting-room.
Gillie again glanced about him with eager appreciation. This was the sort of room he liked—cosy, comfortable, bright and smiling like its attractive mistress.
"Sit down," she exclaimed, "and tell me everything that's happened to you since we last met! Why, it must be, let me see, quite twelve years ago?"