The girl shrank away still more. Her face grew whiter. She spoke so faintly her words were scarcely audible.
"Cecil! Give me back my letter, if you please!"
He handed her back her envelope. "Miss Danvers, I entreat you----"
But the look of scorn which was on her face brought even Hubert to a standstill. As he hesitated, she "fixed him with her eyes." He had seldom felt so uncomfortable as he did just then. He seemed to feel himself growing smaller simply because of the scorn which was in her glance.
"Good evening, Mister Buxton."
She slightly inclined her head--and was gone. Hubert stared after her dumfounded. When he did recover the faculty of speech he hardly knew what use to make of it.
"Well--I've done it! If she's Miss Danvers--who is 'Angel?' Cecil will thank me for the treat which I'm preparing for him. I knew this fatal likeness would dog me to the grave. Why was I born a twin?"
He strolled slowly toward the building. As he entered the hall a lady was coming along the corridor. At sight of him she quickened her pace. She advanced to him with outstretched hands. She was a lady of perhaps forty years of age.
"Cecil!" she cried.
But Hubert was not to be caught with salt. He had had enough, for the present, of Cecil and--of Cecil's feminine friends. Ignoring her outstretched hands, he slightly raised his hat.