"You love—you love!" the man said again and again,—to convince himself.
Conny smiled disdainfully, as at the childish iteration of a child, but said nothing. Finally with a long sigh, coming back from her dream, she rose and stood thoughtfully before the fire, looking down at Cairy reflectively. He had the bewildered feeling of not understanding what was in her mind.
"I will dine with you to-morrow," she remarked at last.
Cairy laughed ironically. It was the perfect anti-climax,—after all this unfathomable silence, after resting in his arms,—"I will dine with you to-morrow!"
But Conny never wasted words,—the commonest had a meaning. While he was searching for the meaning under this commonplace, there was the noise of some one entering the hall below. Conny frowned. Another interruption in her ordered household! Some servant was coming in at the front door. Or a burglar?
If it were a burglar, it was a very well assured one that closed the door carefully, took time to lay down hat and coat, and then with well-bred quiet ascended the stairs.
"It must be Percy," Conny observed, with a puzzled frown. "Something must have happened to bring him back to-night."
Woodyard, seeing a light in the library, looked in, the traveller's weary smile on his face.
"Hello, Percy!" Conny drawled. "What brings you back at this time?"
Woodyard came into the room draggingly, nodded to Cairy, and drew a chair up to the fire. His manner showed no surprise at the situation.