Jessica bit her lip. Then, as the visitors came in, she received them with her dazzling smile.
“How glad I am to see you after all this time,” she exclaimed. “Mr. Stapleton was speaking of you not five minutes ago, and I asked him what had become of you both—I thought you must have left town.”
“I am rarely in town,” Blenkiron said. “I live in the country, you know.”
“So you do. I had forgotten. But you, Captain Preston, I never see you anywhere. Don’t you live in town?”
“Yes, but I rarely go about; my leg is such a handicap, you see. We happened to be passing, so I suggested our calling on the chance of finding you at home. I have not been here since you gave that delightful musical At Home—eight or nine months ago it must have been—but I shall never forget the way your friend sang Tchaikowsky’s ‘None but the Weary Heart.’ It was too gorgeous.”
“Are you so fond of music? You are not like most soldiers.”
“The one thing I love.”
“The one thing?” she laughed mischievously. “That I can hardly believe!”
For an instant their eyes met. Hers were laughing, mischievous still. His had grown suddenly hard.
“Some one told me the other day,” Blenkiron happened to remark, “that you lived at one time in Queensland, Mrs. Mervyn-Robertson. I have been a great deal in Australia. Was it long ago?”