"I thought so, once. Probably there's something the matter with me."
"You did not desire to rent them furnished during your absence?"
"Not that I know of."
"And you have returned a month before they expected you, and I—oh, this is infamous!" she cried, clenching her white hands. "How dared that wretched man rent this place to me? How dared he!"
A long and stunning silence fell upon them—participated in by the British maid.
Then Seabury began to laugh. He looked at the maid, he looked at her angry and very lovely young mistress, looked at the tables littered with typewriters and stationery, he caught sight of his own dining-room with the little table laid for two. His gayety disconcerted her—he rose, paced the room and returned.
"It seems my landlord has tried to turn a thrifty penny by leasing you my rooms!" he said, soberly. "Is that it?"
She was close to tears, controlling her voice and keeping her self-possession with a visible effort. "I—I am treasurer and secretary for the new wing to—to St. Berold's Hospital," she managed to say. "We—the women interested, needed an office—we employ several typewriters, and—oh, goodness! What on earth will your sister think!"
"My sister? Why, she's at Seal Harbor——"
"Your sister was there visiting my mother. I came on to town to see our architects; I wired her to come. She—she was to dine with me here to-night! Sherry was notified!"