for the last two hours, seemed to have occupied his thoughts to the exclusion of all else.
"The Rain-Girl!" The words seemed to come involuntarily. Then he added in confusion, "I—er—beg your pardon. I—I thought it was—I had just rung, I" Then he lapsed into silence and stood staring.
"I quite understand," she said, with a smile of perfect self-possession, as she approached the fire.
Yes; it certainly was the Rain-Girl; but how changed. Her dusky hair, which grew low down on her forehead and temples, was daintily dressed, and she looked very slim and shapely in a simple gown of some nondescript colour between a brown and a grey, which clung in simple folds about her. As she stood holding out her hands to the warmth of the fire, he recovered from his surprise. Obviously the curious happenings of the day were not yet ended.
Deciding that it was embarrassing for two people to stand at the same fire without speaking, Beresford retired to his table just as the waiter entered with the soup. Seeing the Rain-Girl, the waiter hurried across to the table on the other side of the fireplace and withdrew the chair invitingly. She seated herself with a smile of acknowledgment.
She was evidently not inclined to be sociable, Beresford decided. Surely two people dining alone in the same inn might exchange a few common-places; but she seemed determined to discourage any attempt towards friendliness. All through the
