Her hearer had on other Sundays perfectly taken the measure of her ornithological curiosity, and was as aware as herself that it was got up only to gratify his own tastes, and had less than no existence out of his presence; yet something in the resigned yearning of her tone sent a look into his eyes which presently emboldened her to say—
“I must try not to think of these kind of things, mustn’t I?” adding a little later, with a tentative timidity, “I suppose you go to see Lady Bletchley now and then?”
But he had pulled himself together. “It is not much use looking up Felicity. As you are aware, female philanthropists are not often to be found at their own firesides.”
Her face fell, but presently regained a beam of hope. (“Of course, if he has not been in the habit of going to see her he could not begin now; she would smell a rat at once.”)
“Perhaps we may meet in the street accidentally some day,” Miss Ransome continued, with an affecting air of forced cheerfulness, yet feeling her way as she went along; “or, after all your kindness to me, it would be too dreadful to think of never seeing you again! I would try—to meet—you anywhere—that was convenient—to you—if you gave me notice in time.”
He shook his head resolutely and quickly. Never had he felt less mirthful; yet a bitter amusement crossed his mind at the thought of the distance which the young creature before him had traversed since the not distant date, when, according to her own avowal, she had been afraid to be left alone in the room with him!
CHAPTER XXIX
The transfer had been effected; the shuttlecock had returned to that one of the two battledores which had first propelled it.
“It seems as if you had never been away!” Lady Bletchley said, clasping Bonnybell to a heart still draped in complimentary mourning for the beneficent cousin who had turned her into a peeress.
“Yes, doesn’t it?” answered the new arrival, with a warmly responsive embrace.