Of what the lady was sure was left to conjecture. The footman appeared in the hall entrance and announced: "Mr. Brice-Ashton."
Ashton came in, effusive and eager. "My dear Miss Genevieve! I—ah, Mrs. Gantry! Didn't expect to meet you here, such a day as this. Most unexpected—ah—pleasure! N'est-ce pas?—No, no! my dear Miss Leslie; keep your seat!"
Genevieve had seemed about to rise, but he quite deftly drew a chair around and sat down close before her. "I simply couldn't wait any longer. I felt I must call to congratulate you over that marvellous escape. It must have been terrible—terrible!"
Genevieve replied with perceptible coldness: "Thank you, Mr. Ashton. I had not expected a call from you."
"'Mr.' Ashton!" he echoed. "Has it come to that?—when we used to make mudpies together! Dolores said that you—"
"Not so fast, Laffie!" called the girl, as she came dancing into the room in her most animated manner. "Don't forget I'm Miss Gantry now."
Ashton continued to address Genevieve, without turning: "I came all the way down from Michamac just to congratulate you—left my bridge!"
"You're too sudden with your congratulations, Laffie," mocked Dolores.
"Genevieve hasn't yet decided whether it's to be the hero or the earl."
"Dolores," admonished her mother. "I told you to leave the room."
"Yes, and forgot to tell me to stay out. It's no use now, is it? Unless you wish me to drag out Laffie for a little tete-a-tete in the conservatory."