“Miss Byrd, I believe.”
The girl halted, facing him squarely. He had no time for explanations. A well-shaped, perfectly gloved hand rested lightly on either shoulder. He had a bewildering impression of a tall figure swaying toward him, of a fragrance too elusive to be called perfume, of gray eyes flecked with violet. Then her lips touched his.
“Miss Byrd, indeed!” She was laughing in his face. “You are my first and only brother, young man, and I warn you I shall make you live up to the part.” One hand slipped from his shoulder and through his arm. He found himself walking beside her, following the porter who carried her satchels, and listening mechanically to a flow of words which fortunately required no reply.
The affair was a hideous nightmare. Mistaking him for Chandler, whom she had never seen, this unsuspecting girl had kissed him before a hundred witnesses. Most appalling of all, an explanation seemed an unthinkable brutality. When once she knew, she could never look him in the face again. It was essential to keep her in ignorance of her blunder till he left her at Chandler’s door.
Not till they were seated in a taxicab did she ask a direct question. This was fortunate, as Forbes had been incapable of an intelligent reply.
“How’s the baby, Keith?”
“The baby—oh, yes, the little thing has been slightly under the weather.” As he repeated the information imparted by Chandler earlier in the day, Forbes blushed to his ears.
“Little darling!” murmured the girl. “How many teeth has she?”
“Teeth! Oh—I—the usual number, I believe.”
“I’m awfully ignorant, Keith. I ought to be ashamed to confess it, but I really don’t know what is the usual number for a child of six months.”