"You didn't expect to see me, did you?" said the stranger, smiling.
"No, I didn't," said Mrs. Rosscott frankly. "I expected to see someone
else--someone that I knew. Nearly all my visitors are people whom I know."
Her eyes rather demanded an observance of the conventionalities while her
words were putting the best face possible on the queer five minutes. The
stranger smiled.
"My name is Clover," he said then. "Of course, as you never saw me before,
you want to know that first of all."
"I'd choose to know," she said. And then the uncompromising neutrality of
her expression deepened so plainly that he hastened to add:
"I'm H. Wyncoop Clover."
"Oh!" she said. And then smiled, too; having heard the name before.
"Why don't you ask me my business?" went on H. Wyncoop Clover. "I must
have come for some reason, you know."
"I didn't know it," said Mrs. Rosscott--"I don't know anything about you
yet."
They both smiled--and then H. Wyncoop resumed his colorless sobriety at
once.
"It's about Jack," he said--"these terrible new developments--" he stopped
short, seeing his _vis-a-vis_ turn deathly white, "it's nothing to be
frightened over," he said reassuringly.
Mrs. Rosscott was furious with herself for having paled. She became
instantly haughty.
"I was alarmed for my brother," she said. "I always think of them both as
together."
"Oh, in that case, I can reassure you instantly," said the caller.
"Burnett is doing finely.
Pages:
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81