“I am afraid that you are not quite so well as usual. Your Western trip was too much for you, was it not?” Ralph said, when their greetings were over, as he noted her paleness, and was quick to see the look of pain in her expressive eyes.
“Oh, no; I am very well, and you are looking finely. I think English air must agree with you,” Star said, quickly turning attention from herself to him.
“Yes, I am in excellent condition,” he confessed, with rising color, as he remembered how miserable he had been when he last saw her, and what had caused the change in his feelings and appearance. “How long have you been in London?” he queried.
“Only a week,” Mr. Rosevelt answered.
“Wasn’t it a sudden start?”
“Rather. I am here just now on a matter of business, but we intend to see something of this side of the world before we go back,” the old gentleman explained, with a smile.
“We hoped we should find you somewhere on our travels, for a familiar face makes the heart of the stranger glad, you know,” Star said. “I received a letter from Grace to-day, and she writes: ‘Be sure and hunt up Ralph, who is, without doubt, in London now.’ But who is that pretty young lady across the room with the blush-roses in her hair, and with whom I saw you talking as I came in?”
Mr. Meredith flushed again at this; but his eyes kindled as he glanced over at Vivien, and replied:
“Oh, that is an acquaintance that I have made since coming here. Come, and let me introduce you.”
He purposely avoided mentioning her name, wishing to see how Star would receive the introduction.