It was no fancy. There he stood, trim and fresh as ever, a small bunch of Neapolitan violets in his button-hole, his hands behind him, and wearing his usual expression of alert interest in what was passing around him. He was looking remarkably well, and a good deal tanned, so that the clearness of his blue-grey eyes showed more strongly than usual. His face was turned fully towards Wynifred, but he was not looking at her, but beyond, away down the room.
That trifling fact saved her self-respect. Had his eyes been upon her, he must have seen something—some sudden flash of uncontrollable feeling, which would have told him what she would almost have died to prevent his knowing. But in the few moments given to her she was able partially to rally, to tear her eyes from his face, to turn to her partner, even to smile at what he was saying, and to make a reply which, if neither long nor brilliant, was at least not wide of the mark. Those two minutes seemed really two hours to her. First the sudden shock, then the recovery, so slow as it had seemed, the turning of her head an inch to the left, the set smile, the brief answer, and then they were in the doorway ... were, passing him by.... No human power could have made her lift her eyes to his as she passed; yet she saw him without looking—knew how close he was, felt her gown brush his foot, and heard his voice an instant later ejaculate,
"Miss Allonby!"
It had come. As she paused, turned her head, raised her gaze to his, she was more thankful than ever that she had even so brief a preparation; for the expression of Mr. Cranmer's face could not exactly be considered flattering. It was made up of several ingredients, but embarrassment was predominant. There was a slight added color in his cheeks—a hesitation in his manner. He was off guard, and could not immediately collect himself.
A secret fury of indignation at her own folly helped to make Wynifred's smile most coldly sweet. As she held out her hand she slightly arched her eyebrows as though he were the last person she had expected to meet; as indeed he had been, not three minutes ago. He greeted her with some confusion, his eyes roamed over her dress, and never in all her life had she been so devoutly thankful that she was in this respect for once past criticism.
Nothing gives a greater confidence than the consciousness of looking one's best. As the girl stood before Claud, she felt that to-night the advantage was hers. He had not thought it worth while to call in Mansfield Road; he should see that the Allonby family was by no means dependent on his chance favors.
The usual tepid and stereotyped formalities were gone through.
"How do you do, Miss Allonby? It is an unexpected pleasure to meet you here."
"Really! I think it is I who ought to be surprised. I am always at Mrs. Miles' parties, and I never met you before."
"No—it is my first visit. I hope you are all well? Is either of your sisters here?"