“Her ladyship is not receiving.”
“Her ladyship will, I think, receive me,” said Philip pleasantly, “when you tell her I come as the special ambassador of his lordship.”
From a tiny reception-room on the right of the entrance-hall there issued a feminine exclamation of surprise, not unmixed with joy; and in the hall the noble lady instantly appeared.
When she saw herself confronted by a stranger, she halted in embarrassment. But as, even while she halted, her only thought had been, “Oh! if he will only ask me to forgive him!” Philip felt no embarrassment whatsoever. Outside, concealed behind a cab horse, was the erring but bitterly repentant husband; inside, her tenderest thoughts racing tumultuously toward him, was an unhappy child-wife begging to be begged to pardon.
For a New York reporter, and a Harvard graduate of charm and good manners, it was too easy.
“I do not know you,” said her ladyship. But even as she spoke she motioned to the butler to go away. “You must be one of his new friends.” Her tone was one of envy.
“Indeed, I am his newest friend,” Philip assured her; “but I can safely say no one knows his thoughts as well as I. And they are all of you!”
The china shepherdess blushed with happiness, but instantly she shook her head.
“They tell me I must not believe him,” she announced. “They tell me—”
“Never mind what they tell you,” commanded Philip. “Listen to ME. He loves you. Better than ever before, he loves you. All he asks is the chance to tell you so. You cannot help but believe him. Who can look at you, and not believe that he loves you! Let me,” he begged, “bring him to you.” He started from her when, remembering the somewhat violent thoughts of the youthful husband, he added hastily: “Or perhaps it would be better if you called him yourself.”