Hastings looked at her and chuckled. In fact, he chuckled all the way home. In the vestibule they met Mr. Austen Vane and Mr. Thomas Gaylord, the latter coming forward with a certain palpable embarrassment. All through the evening Tom had been trying to account for her presence at the meeting, until Austen had begged him to keep his speculations to himself. “She can't be engaged to him!” Mr. Gaylord had exclaimed more than once, under his breath. “Why not?” Austen had answered; “there's a good deal about him to admire.” “Because she's got more sense,” said Tom doggedly. Hence he was at a loss for words when she greeted him.
“Well, Mr. Gaylord,” she said, “you see no bones were broken, after all. But I appreciated your precaution in sending the buggy behind me, although it wasn't necessary.
“I felt somewhat responsible,” replied Tom, and words failed him. “Here's Austen Vane,” he added, indicating by a nod of the head the obvious presence of that gentleman. “You'll excuse me. There's a man here I want to see.”
“What's the matter with Mr. Gaylord?” Victoria asked. “He seems so—queer.”
They were standing apart, alone, Hastings Weare having gone to the stables for the runabout.
“Mr. Gaylord imagines he doesn't get along with the opposite sex,” Austen replied, with just a shade of constraint.
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Victoria; “we got along perfectly the other day when he rescued me from the bushes. What's the matter with him?”
Austen laughed, and their eyes met.
“I think he is rather surprised to see you here,” he said.
“And you?” returned Victoria. “Aren't you equally out of place?”