her dark and lovely face upraised to him, expectant, questioning, a trifle startled.
"Where are all the servants?" he demanded.
She stirred. The youthful fluency of her body in the mauve dressing gown must have impressed itself upon the excited man by the door.
"I had to let myself in. I—Not a light. It frightened me."
"You've forgotten," she answered. "We talked it over a week or so ago, and I thought you had agreed. Ellen's wedding. Naturally they all wanted to go. I had an early dinner and packed them off. But I counted on you. I was growing afraid, all alone in the house. What kept you?"
"Old Mrs. Hanson—at first. She's very ill. I should really have stayed the night. I went to the club for a bite—"
He broke off. He walked closer, looking down into her eyes which did not quite meet his.
"At the club—I knew I must come home to-night. I—I sent your cousin, Tom Redding, to Mrs. Hanson."
Her eyes wavered even more.
"Why? That isn't like you to—to turn a critical case over to another man. I could have managed. Anyway, you'd forgotten about my maid's wedding. So it wasn't that. What—what happened at the club?"
She shivered for a moment uncontrollably.
"John! What's the matter? Why do you glare at me like that? Why do you look so—so—"
