"
He followed her into a comfortable little apartment, furnished in
mid-Victorian fashion, but with an easy-chair drawn up to the brightly
burning fire. On a table near was a glass of milk and some biscuits.
The ermine cloak slipped from her shoulders. She stood with one foot
upon the fender, half turned towards him. His eyes rested upon her,
filled with a great hunger.
"Well?" she queried.
"You are wonderful," he murmured.
She laughed and for a moment her eyes fell.
"But, my dear man," she said, "I don't want compliments. I want to know
the news."
"There is none," he answered. "We are marking time while Horlock digs
his own grave."
"You have been amusing yourself?"
"Indifferently. I dined the other night with Dartrey, to-night at the
Sheridan Club. The most exciting thing in the twenty-four hours has
been my nightly pilgrimage round here."
"How idiotic!" she laughed. "Supposing you had not happened to meet me?
You could scarcely have rung my bell at this hour of the night."
"I should have been content to have seen the lights and to have known
that you had arrived.
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