CHAPTER VIII.
THE DISCOVERY.
At nine o'clock that evening, Mr. Emblem looked up from the chess board.
"Where is Mr. Arbuthnot this evening, my dear?" he asked.
It would be significant in some houses when a young man is expected every evening. Iris blushed, and said that perhaps he was not coming. But he was, and his step was on the stair as she spoke.
"You are late, Mr. Arbuthnot," said Mr. Emblem, reproachfully, "you are late, sir, and somehow we get no music now until you come. Play us something, Iris. It is my move, Lala—"
Iris opened the piano and Arnold sat down beside her, and their eyes met. There was in each the consciousness of what had passed.
"I shall speak to him to-night, Iris," Arnold whispered. "I have already written to my cousin. Do not be hurt if she does not call upon you."
"Nothing of that sort will hurt me," Iris said, being ignorant of social ways, and without the least ambition to rise in the world. "If your cousin does not call upon me I shall not be disappointed. Why should she want to know me? But I am sorry, Arnold, that she is angry with you."