in the hall fire-place, but he paused only for a moment to get off the outdoor chill, and then ran up to his room to dress for dinner. He knew the customs of the house and he hoped for a reward if he dressed promptly.
Nor was he disappointed, for when he came down the stair some fifteen minutes later, he saw standing before the fire a regal figure. He paused a moment to contemplate it—the white shoulders rising from a gown of rich, dark red, the poise of the head with its black coiffure, the grace of the arm hanging idly by her side…
She was gazing intently into the fire, deep in thought, and for an instant she did not hear him. Then she turned with that rare smile which a woman of ardent temperament gives to only one man in the world.
“I heard you drive up,” she said; “I thought you might remember our old habit.”
“As if I could forget it! Do you know,” and he held her at arm’s length to look at her, “you take my breath away. But then, you always do. My luck seems too completely, supremely perfect to be true.”
Her colour deepened a little under his gaze, but her eyes did not waver.
“I don’t want you to live in a state of perpetual breathlessness,” she said.
“Oh, you don’t know what a delightful state it is. There’s nothing in my appearance to cause palpitation of the heart. Just a moment ago, when I came to the turn of the stair and looked down and saw you standing here, do you know I was appalled at the
