You know how I have
sometimes put my hands over your mouth and told you that your
eyes reminded me of some one else? Well, that some one else
was my Englishman. But you mustn't be jealous; he was a
horrid, obstinate person, and you--well, you know what I think
of you--" She pressed his hand. "But to come to the end of
the story, I never saw this man since that long-ago time,
until--until the night of Blanche's party !" She spoke
slowly, to give full effect to her words; then she waited for
his surprise.
But the result was not what she expected. He said nothing;
and, with an abrupt movement, he drew his hand from between
hers.
"Aren't you surprised?" she asked at last, with a delicate
note of reproof.
He started slightly, as if recalled to the necessity of the
moment. "Surprised?" he said. "Why should I be surprised?
One person more or less at a big party isn't astonishing.
Besides, you expect a man to turn up sooner or later in his
own country. Why should I be surprised?"
She lay back luxuriously.
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