“My dear lady,” said De Gollyer, staring at her a little too insistently, “I have only been completely astounded twice before in my life. This is the third time. Will you allow me to sit down and recover myself?”
“You look astounded,” said Dangerfield, laughing.
“My dear boy, I never saw anything so amazing in my life. But you look younger and more beautiful than I do. Where have you been? What have you been doing? Why didn’t you let me know? By Jove, Dan, I am glad to see you like this!”
The exclamation burst forth so impulsively that Inga, who had retired into her shell the instant she had fallen under the shrewd, delving glance of the man of the world, felt a sudden warming of her heart toward him. Dangerfield put out his hand with a nervous laugh and laid it on De Gollyer’s arm.
“I know you are, Bob,” he said. “Well, I’m coming back.”
“And the work?”
Dangerfield looked at Inga, a sudden longing in his eyes. She comprehended and smiled back her acquiescence.
“Come and see—you’ll be the first.”
De Gollyer had not missed the question and the answer which had flashed between them. Plainly Inga intrigued his imagination the more. She was the key to the mystery and, at times, while he sat listening to Dangerfield, his eyes fixed themselves on hers with an intensity that left her hotly conscious and at times she felt this glance wandering down to the fingers of her left hand.