Neil, during the recital, had quite recovered himself, and privately decided that if a man and a girl were willing to take the social risk he surely could meet them half way. So he calmly placed the other decanter on a table, and, turning to them, remarked, “I am very glad to see you. This is a little bit out of the ordinary, but the unexpected is quite often the pleasantest. Won’t you sit down, Miss Howland? I am extremely sorry that your visit to my den couldn’t have been made under more favorable circumstances; at one of my little teas, for instance. Under other than the present circumstances I should feel that an apology was due you for my personal appearance. I am quite aware that I have no coat on, that my hair is mussed, and that I have a general and virulent attack of the malady bachelor-at-homeness. However, I shan’t apologize.” And then the democratic Neil pulled up two big armchairs, and, having seen his guests cosily seated before the replenished fire, calmly and coatlessly resumed his place on the hearth-rug beside the General. Miss Howland looked surprised, but said nothing. Then she reached over and patted the silky head of the dog. He took the caress in a dignified sort of way, but nestled closer, if possible, to Richards. “What a handsome fellow,” she softly said; “and how much he thinks of his master,” she added to herself.
The three chatted away together about bachelor dens, people, and other generalities for some time, when suddenly Miss Howland rose and, turning to Cutting, said: “I wonder if you’d mind granting me one more favor. I wish to have a little talk with Mr. Richards—alone.” She paused a moment. “I know it’s unconventional, but the rest of this is, also, and I know you won’t take it amiss, will you?”
“Not at all,” Cutting answered. “Suppose I manipulate the ivories while you have your talk. Don’t feel that it must be abbreviated on my account; but when you get through, why, do as they do in the plays, ring for me, and, like the footman, I’ll appear. Is it feasible?”
“Quite so, thank you,” answered the girl; “it’s so good of you.” And, with a pipe in one hand and a tobacco jar in the other, Bob vanished through the portières; and a moment later the click of billiard balls announced that he had found occupation.
The girl turned to Richards. He had risen with Cutting and had now donned a Japanese smoking-jacket, in which, somehow, he felt better equipped for his strange tête-à-tête. As his eyes sought hers she looked him frankly in the face, and simply asked: “Mr. Richards, what do you think of me?” Richards was silent for a moment, and then, with his eyes on the dog at his feet, said: “Shall I tell you frankly?”
“Yes, please do,” answered the girl.
He looked up. “I think you have lots of courage, are a bit injudicious, and, of course, did not come here without reasons.”
She smiled. “You are frank, but don’t you think it rude to assume the role of inquisitor in your first remark?”
“But you asked me, didn’t you?” he gently replied.
“Yes, I suppose so,” she said.