"
"No," he answered.
Lady Cantourne's face betrayed nothing. There was no sigh, of
relief or disappointment. She merely looked at the clock.
"Millicent will be in presently," she said; "she is out riding."
She did not think it necessary to add that her niece was riding with
a very youthful officer in the Guards. Lady Cantourne never made
mischief from a sense of duty, or any mistaken motive of that sort.
Some people argue that there is very little that is worth keeping
secret; to which one may reply that there is still less worth
disclosing.
They talked of other things--of his life in Africa, of his success
with the Simiacine, of which discovery the newspapers were not yet
weary--until the bell was heard in the basement, and thereafter
Millicent's voice in the hall.
Lady Cantourne rose deliberately and went downstairs to tell her
niece that he was in the drawing-room, leaving him there, waiting,
alone.
Presently the door opened and Millicent hurried in. She threw her
gloves and whip--anywhere--on the floor, and ran to him.
"Oh, Jack!" she cried.
It was very prettily done. In its way it was a poem. But while his
arms were still round her she looked towards the window, wondering
whether he had seen her ride up to the door accompanied by the very
youthful officer in the Guards.
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