"Indeed! Oh, are you going? Well, good-night."
Hugh Glynn was careful to stay in his room all the next morning, thinking that if Lambert wished to make any private communication, they were more secure from interruption there than elsewhere.
It was barely eleven when Lambert was announced. Glynn was positively startled by the change in his aspect. His weather-beaten face was colorless and haggard, his eyes had a hunted look, as though seeking a way of escape, his clothes were carelessly put on, his moustaches no longer waxed and fiercely twisted, his whole air bespoke neglect.
"Delighted to see you, Glynn," he said, a faint gleam of pleasure lighting up his restless eyes. "I was afraid you wouldn't get back again this season; business must be attended to. You're in business, aren't you?"
"Yes, but I can attend to it sometimes at a distance."
"That's fortunate; and you have been all right?"
"Yes; quite right, thank you."
There was an awkward pause. Lambert seemed unable to approach the matter, whatever it might be, which filled his mind; he took up a paper-knife, which he turned restlessly to and fro, he changed his position, and then, with a sigh, exclaimed, "You saw Elsie yesterday. She was glad you called, but she is not very bright. You didn't think her looking well, hey?"
"Not as well as usual, certainly."