In the midst of this the door opened. Gloria stood on the threshold. A look of pleasure flashed over her face as she saw the player. A dozen light, soft-footed steps carried her to him. She clasped her hands over his eyes, let them slip to his shoulders, planted a swift, little kiss on the top of his head, and stepped back.
“Jack!” she cried.
The man swung around, leaped to his feet, caught her by both hands, and exclaimed:
“Well, Gloria! It’s a treat to see you.”
“I’d begun to think you were never coming back. Where do you hail from?”
“Oh, all over the map. But no place as good as this.”
He smiled down at her, still holding her hands. To a keen, thin, sensitive face, with a mobile mouth and quiet eyes, the smile set the final impression of charm. Instanter and before he had spoken ten words, Darcy decided that he was the one man she had ever seen worthy of Gloria Greene. And she was glad they had found each other.
“But where’s Darcy?” asked the hostess, looking about.
“Who?” asked her visitor.
“A little acquaintance whom I left here when I went out.”