"Hasn't he come in?" asked the girl, in a hard kind of way; and, as she spoke, loosening her hat, she went to the mirror which hung against the wall of the hall, and passed her hand lightly through the soft masses of her hair, slightly dampened by the drenching shower. It was such a new trait in her—this attention to appearances—that Mr. Fowler gazed at her in sheer astonishment. Her beauty as she stood there was simply wonderful. Claud, eyeing her with all his might, was at a loss for a reason why he was not in love with her. Her style was not a common one among English girls—it was too sumptuous, too splendid. Though absolutely a blonde, the lashes which shaded her eyes were dark as night. Her complexion was a miracle of warmth and creamy fairness; and now that the final charm had come—that conscious life had permeated her being—the slowness of her movements, the comparative rarity of her speech, were charms of a most fascinating description. She was just beginning to understand what power was hers. It seemed as if the thought expressed itself in the faint smile, the regal grace with which the hand was lifted to the golden coronal of hair. She was absolutely exquisite, and yet Claud's only thought concerning her was an inward foreboding of the mischief she would work in London.
"Did you and Godfrey go out together?" asked Mr. Fowler at length.
The shadow fell over the lovely face again.
"Yes," she answered shortly.
"And where did you part company?" he went on, somewhat anxiously.
"I—I don't know, quite—I forget."
"I expect they've a bin quarrelling again, sir," observed Jane, with severity. "I do not know how it is as Miss Elaine can never get on with her brother at all. I'm sure I never see nothing to complain so about—a bit wild and rude, as most young gentlemen is, but——"
"Godfrey behaves exceedingly ill," said Mr. Fowler, shortly. "Did you have a quarrel, Elsa?"
"Yes, we did. I will never go out with him again, as long as I live," said Elsa, quietly.
"And you parted company?"