“She has tangled herself in my heart-strings, certainly. I could not bear her to think me treacherous. But my first duty was to him.”
As the hours passed she grew fidgety, rearranged the ornaments, the flowers, the books, in their pretty salon—ran to the window to look at many cabs, and when at last the one arrived that contained John Mordaunt, was quite unaware of it.
He was treading on the heels of the garçon who came up to announce him—in her presence before she realized it.
“I knew you long ago through Mrs. Payne; but you could not be supposed to identify me,” he said, with strong feeling, as he took her hand. “You have not changed in the least. And to think that all these years I could not find out whom you had married.”
Gwendolyn blushed deeply, and drew her hand from his.
“It was so good of you to relieve my anxiety about our girl,” she answered. “Now I begin to think she said it to frighten me.”
“No matter, since I am here. But where is she—my darling torment?”
Gwendolyn explained.
“Then sit down and let us learn each other all over again,” said this taking-for-granted Senator.
Gwendolyn did not know why she obeyed; the moments flew, she telling, he listening, and vice versa. They were rudely interrupted by the bursting open of the door and the entrance of Miss Mimms, aghast.