She looked at me, with wide open eyes,—as if I almost frightened her. To be frank, that was what I wished to do.
‘Mr Atherton!’
‘Miss Lindon?’
‘That is not like you at all.’
‘We seem to be making each other’s acquaintance for the first time.’
She continued to gaze at me with her big eyes,—which, to be candid, I found it difficult to meet. On a sudden her face was lighted by a smile,—which I resented.
‘Not after all these years,—not after all these years! I know you, and though I daresay you’re not flawless, I fancy you’ll be found to ring pretty true.’
Her manner was almost sisterly,—elder-sisterly. I could have shaken her. Hartridge coming to claim his dance gave me an opportunity to escape with such remnants of dignity as I could gather about me. He dawdled up,—his thumbs, as usua
