“I am too late, I perceive,” he said, with a bow; “but, perchance I may be more fortunate before the month is out.”
Something in his tone more than the words made her regard him closely, and a sort of chill smote her heart as she marked the peculiar gleam in his eye and the resolute lines about his mouth.
Some one claimed her just then, and, with a polite bow, she excused herself and left him, glad to get away from his presence.
The next time they met was more than a week later, at the opera.
Gladys was spending a few days with her friend, Addie Loring. It was to be her last visit before her marriage, and the two girls were making the most of it.
Mr. Loring invited them to accompany him to hear Parepa Rosa, and sent word to Geoffrey to join them; but he had an engagement for the first half of the evening, and could not; he would, however, join them later, he said in the note that he sent his betrothed.
Mrs. Loring was not well, and did not feel equal to going out, and so her husband had to be both chaperon and escort for the young ladies.
Everet Mapleson saw them the moment they entered their box, while it was not long before Miss Loring discovered his vicinity, when she bowed and smiled most cordially. A moment later she leaned forward and whispered to her father, who nodded assent, and then made a signal for Everet to come and join his party.
The young man needed no second invitation, and was soon seated between the two young ladies, gayly parrying Miss Loring’s witty shots at his having come to the opera all alone, when there were so many belles and beauties who would have been delighted to share the pleasure with him.
Gladys drew herself a little apart. She felt uncomfortable to have him there, under any circumstances, while, too, she was interested in the opera, and it annoyed her to have those around her conversing, even though it was scarcely above their breath.