"Where does that come from?" asked Mrs. Lancaster.
"Ah! from--ah--" began Mr. Rimmon, then catching Keith's eyes resting on him with an amused look in them, he turned red.
She addressed Keith. "Mr. Keith, you quoted that to me once; where does it come from? From the Bible?"
"No."
"I read it in the newspaper and was so struck by it that I remembered it," said Mr. Rimmon.
"I read it in 'Laus Veneris,'" said Keith, dryly, with his eyes on the other's face. It pleased him to see it redden.
Keith, as he passed through the rooms, caught sight of an old lady over in a corner. He could scarcely believe his senses; it was Miss Abigail. She was sitting back against the wall, watching the crowd with eyes as sharp as needles. Sometimes her thin lips twitched, and her bright eyes snapped with inward amusement. Keith made his way over to her. She was so much engaged that he stood beside her a moment without her seeing him. Then she turned and glanced at him.
"'A chiel's amang ye takin' notes,'" he said, laughing and holding out his hand.
"'An', faith! she'll prent 'em,'" she answered, with a nod. "How are you? I am glad to see you. I was just wishing I had somebody to enjoy this with me, but not a man. I ought to be gone; and so ought you, young man. I started, but I thought if I could get in a corner by myself where there were no men I might stay a little while and look at it; for I certainly never saw anything like this before, and I don't think I ever shall again. I certainly do not think you ought to see it."
Keith laughed, and she continued: