"The Park--and drive slowly," Lillian ordered, as she stepped
inside, motioning Chilcote to the seat opposite.
They moved up Bond Street smoothly and rapidly. Lillian was
absorbed in the passing traffic until the Marble Arch was
reached; then, as they glided through the big gates, she
looked across at her companion. He had turned up the collar
of his coat, though the wind was scarcely perceptible, and
buried, himself in it to the ears.
"It is extraordinary!" she exclaimed, suddenly, as her eyes
rested on his face. It was seldom that she felt drawn to
exclamation. She was usually too indolent to show surprise.
But now the feeling was called forth before she was aware.
Chilcote looked up. "What's extraordinary?" he said,
sensitively.
She leaned forward for an instant and touched his hand.
"Bear!" she said, teasingly. "Did I rub your fur the wrong
way?" Then, seeing his expression, she tactfully changed her
tone. "I'll explain. It was the same thing that struck me
the night of Blanche's party--when you looked at me over
Leonard Kaine's head.
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