"Come and laugh too, Mr. Lyons," said Grace, as she shook hands with him. "Should you be surprised to hear that Mr. Stevens (by the way, let me introduce you. Mr. Stevens, Mr. Lyons; the same to the same). Yes, Mr. Stevens is laughing at an excellent, undeniable joke made by me."
Paul Lyons seemed older and more careworn than when she had last seen him. He looked at her with so grave an expression that she was startled. The laughter died away upon her lips, and she was silent.
"You have been ill?"
He spoke with very real feeling, and she, though she tried to answer him lightly, the effort was a failure. At length she said shortly—
"I have been ill, and your mother kind. My face speaks for itself, I suppose."
"Yes," answered Paul, "you are looking far from well. But you are better? You are going away?"
"Who told you this important fact?"
"My mother. I came home sooner. I wanted to see you before you went away."
Mr. Stevens had not very quick perceptions, but when Paul Lyons made this speech it dawned upon him that he was perhaps in the way.
He rose, and, renewing his offers of service, left the room, with an overpowering amount of thanks from Grace.