“No. The fact is, Lois, I only saw him for a moment and I never thought about it.”
“Oh, it doesn’t make any difference. I wanted to speak to you about Theodosia; I’ve had a letter, and she’s coming. We are going to have a young lady as a visitor this winter,” she added formally in explanation to Mr. Leverich, who still stood at her elbow. “She’s coming up North to study music; she’s very pretty, I believe, and clever.”
“A relation?” hazarded Mr. Leverich.
“Yes; she’s a young cousin of mine—I haven’t seen her since she was a child. It will be so pleasant to have a girl in the house.”
“You like company,” he returned approvingly, “my wife does, too; we always have a houseful. She says I show off better when we have visitors—can’t let my angry passions rise. By the way, Alexander, what time shall I bring the books over to-night?”
Lois Alexander’s startled, questioning glance sought her husband’s, and his gave a gravely confidential assent before he answered:
“Any time you say.”
“Will eight o’clock be too early?”
“No, that will suit me very well.”
“Well, good-by!” He took off his hat in farewell to Lois, and disappeared in the crowd, as his broad shoulders forced a sinuous passage through the throng.