“You know me? I hardly thought you would.” Ivor grasped kindly the old retainer’s hand. “I am taking you all by surprise.”
“It is a surprise indeed, sir. And I’m heartily glad to see you again. Not but what you ain’t looking as you should, sir. Them furrin parts haven’t suited you, I’m thinkin’.”
“Captivity has not suited me. And I have travelled hard, and taken little rest. But the old country will put me right. Who is in?”
“My mistress, sir, is in the drawing-room, and Miss Keene and Miss Baron. I was about to take in lights.”
“Wait till I have gone in. And Drake, you can announce me, but don’t say my name so that it can be heard.”
Drake obeyed to the letter. He threw open the drawing-room door, and mumbled something inaudible. Denham entered, bowing ceremoniously.
“You can bring lights, Drake,” said Mrs. Bryce. The room was dark, and the fire had fallen low.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m excessive glad to see you, sir,” Mrs. Bryce declared cordially, after a hurried whisper to Polly, “Who did he say, my dear? Oh, well, ’tis easy to see—he’s one of the military. A soldier home from the wars.” Then she turned to Ivor with her welcome. “Mr. Bryce is away, I’m sorry to say, but doubtless you can await his return, and Mr. Baron will be in this minute.”
Ivor had some difficulty in recognising his friend Roy under this designation. Polly was casting half-shy glances at him. Something in the outline of his figure, dim though the light was, brought Denham to her mind, but it was not until he spoke that her colour changed fast from pink to white and from white to pink.