Clephane, Harleston did not know. Nor did she herself know--more than
that she was quite content to be with him, and let him do for her,
assured that he would not misunderstand, nor misinterpret, nor presume.
So, across the chair's back, she held out her hand to him; and he took
it, pressed it lightly, but answered never a word.
"Now you shall hear the special matter I've got bottled up," said she.
"Whom do you think was here late this afternoon?"
"The Emperor of Spain!" he guessed.
"A diplomatic answer!" she mocked. "There is no Emperor of Spain; yet
it's not absolutely wide of the diplomatic truth, for it was Mrs.
Buissard--she of the cab, you'll remember."
"So!" Harleston exclaimed. "What's the move now; I fancy she was not
paying a social visit."
"You fancy correctly," Mrs. Clephane replied. "She came to the apartment
unannounced; and when I, chancing to be passing the door when she
knocked, opened it, and saw who was without, I almost cried out with
surprise. I didn't cry out, however. On the contrary, remembering
diplomatic ways, I most cordially invited her in. To do her justice,
Mrs. Buissard, beyond expressing hope that I had experienced no ill
effect from the occurrence of the other night, wasted no time in coming
to business.
Pages:
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215