“Professor Theobald!”
She did not look pleased to see him, and as they shook hands, his mouth shut sharply, as it always did when his self-love was wounded. Then, a gleam of resolve or cunning came into his face, and the next instant he was at his suavest.
“Do you know, Mrs. Temperley, I scarcely recognized you when you first came in. ‘Who can this beautiful, distinguished-looking woman be?’ I said to myself.”
Hadria smiled maliciously.
“You think I am so much changed?”
Professor Theobald began to chuckle.
“The trowel, I see, is still your weapon,” she added, “but I am surprised that you have not learnt to wield the implement of sway with more dexterity, Professor.”
“I am not accustomed to deal with such quick-witted ladies, Mrs. Temperley.”
“You shew your hand most frankly,” she answered; “it almost disarms one.”
A few introductory chords sounded through the room. Hadria was sitting in front of the window, across which the pale green curtains had been drawn. Many eyes wandered towards her.