“Mrs. Travers, when they come out, I must talk to him—to Captain Horton, I mean, and—and try to do away with the bad impression I must have made. He must think me so shy and silent. Will it seem strange if I should ask him to go with me round the garden to see the roses?”
“Strange! no, indeed,” returned the other with a little laugh. “He will be very glad to look at the roses with you, I should think.”
Fan kept her place by the table when the gentlemen came out. Captain Horton's eyes studiously avoided her face.
“Mrs. Travers,” he said, taking a cup of coffee from her hand, “I hope you will not think worse of me than you already do if I leave you at once. Unfortunately for me, I have an appointment which must be kept.”
“Oh that is really too bad of you,” said the lady. “We were anticipating so much pleasure from your singing this evening. And here is Miss Eden just waiting to take you round the garden to show you our roses—perhaps you can spare ten minutes to see them?”
He glanced at the girl's pale, troubled face.
“I shall be very pleased to look at the roses with Miss Eden,” he returned, setting down his cup with a somewhat unsteady hand.
His voice, however, expressed no pleasure, but only surprise, and while speaking he anxiously consulted his watch. Fan came round to his side at once, and together they moved towards the lower end of the grounds.
“Do you admire flowers?” She spoke mechanically.
“Yes, I do.”