‘We seem to be making each other’s acquaintance for the first time.’
She continued to gaze at me with her big eyes,—which, to be candid, I found it difficult to meet. On a sudden her face was lighted by a smile,—which I resented.
‘Not after all these years,—not after all these years! I know you, and though I daresay you’re not flawless, I fancy you’ll be found to ring pretty true.’
Her manner was almost sisterly,—elder-sisterly. I could have shaken her. Hartridge coming to claim his dance gave me an opportunity to escape with such remnants of dignity as I could gather about me. He dawdled up,—his thumbs, as usual, in his waistcoat pockets.
‘I believe, Miss Lindon, this is our dance.’
She acknowledged it with a bow, and rose to take his arm. I got up, and left her, without a word.
As I crossed the hall I chanced on Percy Woodville. He was in his familiar state of fluster, and was gaping about him as if he had mislaid the Koh-i-noor, and wondered where in thunder it had got to. When he saw it was I he caught me by the arm.
‘I say, Atherton, have you seen Miss Lindon?’
‘I have.’
‘No!—Have you?—By Jove!—Where? I’ve been looking for her all over the place, except in the cellars and the attics,—and I was just going to commence on them. This is our dance.’