“Your sister called to day, and I was out.”
“That’s too bad!” he exclaimed heartily. “She will be so sorry. She wanted to take you out in the automobile—I lent it for the purpose. Where are you going, and at such a pace—may I know?”
“I’m going to a card party at Mrs. Turnbull’s—it’s right here.”
Her companion showed plainly his disappointment. “I thought you were out for a good walk, and that perhaps I might join you.”
More sorry than he, and thoroughly regretting having told her stupid errand, she slowed her pace.
“Can’t I come in with you—and play as well?”
She smiled nervously. “Oh, no, there are only ladies in the club.”
“Only!” he repeated. “What better could one want? But I should prefer it in the singular. Can’t you seriously take me in under your protection and introduce me? What do you play? Bridge? I can play bridge. It would amuse me hugely.” He saw that she did not understand his use of the word and changed it. “Entertain me—do, please.”
Mrs. Warrener had not much imagination, but she could imagine the faces of Mrs. Turnbull and her fellow club members at the sight of Mr. McAllister and herself together under any circumstances. He looked so tall—so laughing and at ease—his attitude as if he had known her all his life bewildered her; her embarrassment was not yet relieved, although her pleasure was growing.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t, Mr. McAllister.”