With a boyish twinkle in his gray eyes but profound gravity In his manner, Lord James offered her his hand. She placed her fingers in his palm and sprang up beside him. The others were still moving up the room. She surprised him by meeting his amused gaze with an angry flash of her big black eyes.
"Shame!" she flung at him. "You, his friend, and would take her from him!"
He stared blankly. The girl whirled away from him with a swish of silken skirts and fled past her mother, all her anger lost in wild panic.
"Dolores! Whatever can—" cried Mrs. Gantry. But Dolores had vanished.
"Really, Genevieve, that madcap girl—! About yourself, my dear.
Promise me now, if you cannot say 'yes,' at least you'll not make it a
final 'no.'"
"But, Aunt Amice, unless I feel—"
"Promise me! You must give yourself time to make sure. He will wait. I am certain he will wait until you have found out—"
"I cannot promise anything now," replied Genevieve.
Mrs. Gantry did not press the point. It was the second time during the call that her niece had proved herself less docile than she had expected. As she left the room, Genevieve returned to Lord James without any outward sign of hesitancy. She seated herself and smiled composedly at her caller, who still stood in the daze into which Dolores's outburst had thrown him.
"Won't you sit down?" she invited. "How is Mr. Blake?"
[Illustration: "Shame!" she flung at him. "You, his friend, and would take her from him!">[