"I beg your pardon," Mr. Revington replied, "I was smoking a cigar with your husband and could not come any sooner."
He paused a moment, and then added in a rather complaining tone:
"I could not imagine what you wanted of me, anyhow."
"Could you not?" she inquired, with a smothered sneer. "Well, sit down here on this quiet seat and I will tell you."
They seated themselves and began talking softly, unconscious that in the long grass just beyond the thick belt of shrubbery that inclosed the myrtle avenue, a man had flung himself down full length, so absorbed in his own painful thoughts as to be for the moment unaware of their presence.
Suddenly he became aware of the murmuring sound of voices. His first impulse was to rise and leave the spot, but in the next he decided that it would startle the speakers and draw down their ill-will perhaps upon himself.
"Some of the servants out sparking," he laughed to himself. "I will not disturb them. They will be none the worse for my presence."
So he laid his head down again upon his arm, and relapsed into his painful musing.
"I will tell you what I have to say to you, Julius," repeated Mrs. Stuart. "I wish to ask you who is this girl, Irene?"
Julius Revington gave a violent start in the darkness.