The western train was late so that Blair’s ingenuity was severely taxed by the effort to hold Wayne, who was the least bit surprised to find himself summoned to his brother-in-law’s office to discuss Fanny’s investments, which Blair was perfectly competent to manage without help from him. It was half-past five when Mrs. Blair appeared, so demure and indifferent that Blair almost laughed outright.
“Oh, Wayne!” she cried, “I think I dropped my handkerchief as I came through the library—would you be so kind——”
She herself, admirable woman, closed the door upon them.
CHAPTER XLI
“MY CITY—OUR CITY”
“JEAN!”
Wayne had taken both her hands and stood smiling down upon her before she grasped the fact of his presence.
“I didn’t understand—it isn’t fair—Mrs. Blair said——”
“I’m just as surprised as you are, Jean—and it isn’t fair, of course; but Fanny likes to think herself the instrument of Providence. I hope she is!”
His high spirits evoked no response at once. She was on guard against him, and not lightly to be won to the plane of happiness to which her coming had lifted him. He sat down facing her by the broad windows whence the eye was led as from a hill-top to the horizon. He asked about her later experiences, and they took account of each other soberly as they talked. The changes in both were marked. She was now a successful artist, whose work was a feature of the periodical that lay on the window-ledge beside her. Her hat and gown bore the metropolitan accent—no hint here of the girl he accosted so long ago before Sargent’s picture!
It was difficult to resist the appeal in his eyes, that were wonderfully clear and straightforward and earnest behind the happiness that shone in them. When she had answered his questions as to her southwestern experiences silence fell between them. She was afraid to ask about himself, for fear of replies that might lead to dangerous ground. She glanced over her shoulder toward the door uneasily.