Terence O'Rourke, Gentleman Adventurer
tion which glowed within O'Rourke's eyes was not unprovoked.
Against the dark background her profile stood in clear, ivory-like relief, clean cut and distinguished as a cameo—and perilously beautiful; her full lips were parted in the slightest of smiles, her eyes were deep, warm shadows, the massed waves of her hair uncovered, exquisitely coiffured … "Faith!" sighed the Irishman. "'Tis a great lady she is, and I …" He was, notwithstanding his self-depreciation, conscious of considerable satisfaction in the knowledge that he was attired properly, as a gentleman; but, "Oh, Lord!" he groaned in spirit. "What will she be doing with me when she finds me out?"
For it was appealing to him as very delightful—this adventure upon which he had stumbled—even though he had not a single sou to give the driver. That O'Rourke was young has been mentioned; he was also ardent and gallant; and it was to his blandishments of tongue that he was trusting to extricate him gracefully from his predicament.
But—did he honestly desire to be extricated? Not—he answered himself with suspicious instantaneousness—if it was to deprive him of the charming companionship which was his, for the moment; not if it left him still hungry for a peep within the cloak of mystery that shrouded the affair.
He made a closer inventory of the fiacre; it was rather elegant in appointment—no mere public conveyance, that is to be picked up on any corner; all of which confirmed his suspicions that this was a woman of rank and pedigree.
And when he ventured a more timid glance, sideways, it was to find her eying him with an inscrutable amusement.
"Mademoiselle," he faltered clumsily, "I—I—faith! if ye'll but pardon me again—"
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