" She stood
looking down at her caller, good-humoredly and continued: "I suppose
it is my fault, but you have a dreadfully gloomy expression. Or
maybe," as an afterthought, "you ate an unwholesome dinner last night.
Were you at the Perrings, by any chance?"
He shook his head, his keen eyes searching her face.
"No," said he, "I had much more important matters on hand."
She held up her hand.
"It was something about this Hume affair," she said.
"Yes," he replied.
The smile was now gone; she leaned back against a heavy table, her
fingers tightly clasping its edge.
"I have been trying to forget that dreadful thing," she said. "I've
stopped looking at the papers, because I would be sure to see it
mentioned. And," with never a faltering in her eyes, "because I might
be reminded of it in some other way, I now remain indoors."
"Last night was an exception, perhaps," suggested he, smoothly.
"Last night?" There was a questioning look in her beautiful eyes; the
finely posed head with its crown of bright hair bent toward him
inquiringly.
An expression of chagrin crept into his face.
"You were not out last night, then?" said he.
"What makes you think so?" smilingly. "It was dreadfully dull here,
too.
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