volubly and convincingly--she had been asleep--she was much better off not
being disturbed--that this was true was proven by results--she was
blooming, positively blooming--as fresh as a rose leaf--of course it was
rather an imposition on the Sherwoods, but the baggage hadn't come up yet,
and they were kind people, our sort, the sort for whom the word obligation
did not exist--he, personally, had not intended being gone so long, but by
the rarest of chances he had run across some of the men to whom, he had
introductions, and they had been most kind in making him acquainted--
nothing was more important to a young lawyer than to "establish
connections"--it did not do to overlook a chance.

He urged all this, and more, with all his usual, vital, enthusiastic force.
In spite of herself, she was overborne to a reproachful forgiveness.

In the meantime Mrs. Sherwood had gone over to where Ben Sansome was still
standing by the door. Sansome did not like Mrs. Sherwood. He considered
that she had no social tact at all. This was mainly--though he did not
analyze it--because she was quite apt to speak the direct and literal truth
to him; because she had a disquieting self-confidence and competence in
place of appropriate, graceful, feminine dependence; but especially because
she had never and would never play up to his game.

"Are you making a formal afternoon call, Ben?" she asked in her cool,
mocking voice. "Aren't you really a little _de trop?_"

"I did not come of my own volition at this time, I assure you," he replied
a trifle stiffly. The thought that he was suspected of a blunder in social
custom stung him; as, in a rather lazily amused way, she knew it would.

At this reply she glanced keenly toward Keith, then nodded; slowly.