Her colour heightened as she asked herself the reason why? Then she heard his step in the hall and turned quickly away from the glass.
Stephen, slim and elegant, in his grey flannels, stood before her, hand outstretched, a welcoming light in the long lashed green eyes.
"H'are you?" He held in his clasp her fingers that, despite her will, trembled slightly, and gazed down at the pretty flushed face.
"This is good of you, dear lady,"—his voice was low and sentimental. "More than I deserve, you know."
Carefully he closed the door as she murmured something in reply and came back to her side.
"I never saw you look so well! It's just too ... nice to have you here—and I'm goin' to ask a further favour——" he gave her a beseeching glance—"Just to postpone our ... business talk—and lunch first—without a word of all that painful Cluar affair. Do be kind and say you will? I promise to listen afterwards——" boyishly he added the words—"to all that you have to say to me. I know you feel awfully vexed—but just—for a little—let's forget it."
Inwardly Mrs. Uniacke felt relieved at the postponement of the lecture she had prepared.
Still—there was her "dignity." She must uphold that at any cost.
"I should prefer to discuss it first. That was my object in coming here, as I wrote in my letter, Stephen."
"Ah—don't be hard on me," he broke in quickly, seeing her waver. "I've been through such a bad time." He gave a sigh that was genuine, aware of a new financial crisis. To quarrel with the woman before him was the last thing he desired. He owed her now a considerable sum of money, far more than he could repay. As friends this state of indebtedness could drift on indefinitely, but if it came to a real rupture? He shrank from the thought of a settlement.