"It was kind of you to come," he said jerkily, in his embarrassment.
"I enjoyed every moment," she said warmly. "But that wasn't all I
meant when I thanked you."
His eyebrows climbed with surprise.
"What else, Miss Lessing?"
"Your delicacy in letting me know you understood--"
Disengaging her hand, she broke off with a startled movement, and a
low cry of surprise.
A taxicab, swinging into the street from Eighth Avenue, had boiled up
to the curb before the gate, and pausing, discharged a young man in a
hurry; witness the facts that he had the door open when halfway
between the corner and the house, and was on the running-board before
the vehicle was fairly at a halt.
In a stride this one crossed the sidewalk and pulled up, silently,
trying to master the temper which was visibly shaking him. Tall,
well-proportioned, impressively turned out in evening clothes, he
thrust forward a handsome face marred by an evil, twisted mouth, and
peered searchingly at the girl.
Instinctively she shrank back inside the fence, eyeing him with a look
of fascinated dismay.
As instinctively P. Sybarite bristled between the two.
"Well?" he snapped at the intruder.
An impatient gesture of a hand immaculately gloved in white abolished
him completely--as far, at least, as the other was concerned.
"Ah--Miss Lessing, I believe?"
The voice was strong and musical but poisoned with a malicious triumph
that grated upon the nerves of P.
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