its way through the plantation and crept across the worn, handsome
carpet. He felt a queer exultation at the sound of her footsteps
outside. She entered, as she had departed, without directly meeting his
earnest gaze.

"I hope you have made yourself at home," she said. "Dear me, how untidy
everything is!"

She moved about, altering the furniture a little, making little piles of
the magazines, a graceful, elegant figure in her dark velvet house
dress, with a thin band of fur at the neck. She turned suddenly around
and found him watching her. This time she laughed at him frankly.

"Sit down at once," she ordered, motioning him back to his easy-chair
and coming herself to a corner of the lounge. "Remember that you have a
great deal to tell me and explain. The newspapers say such queer
things. Is it true that I really am entertaining a possible future
Prime Minister?"

"I suppose that might be," he answered, a little vaguely, his eyes still
fixed upon her. "So this is your room. I like it. And I like--"

"Well, go on, please," she begged.

"I like the softness of your gown, and I like the fur against your
throat and neck, and I like those buckles on your shoes, and the way you
do your hair."

She laughed, gracefully enough, yet with some return to that note of
uneasiness.