she had
appeared to him on that evening, the last of his brief, incredible
happiness, when he sat with her alone in the drawing-room at Court
House, and she had declared her belief in him, so she appeared to him
now. The unforgettable movements of her face, the sweet curve of her
mouth (the upper lip so soft and fine that it seemed to quiver
delicately with the rhythm of her pulses and her breath), the turn of
her head, the lifting of her eyebrows, told him that she had kept no
memory of his part in the things that had happened after that.

And he too forgot. With Lucia sitting at his right hand, he forgot the
woman sitting at his left; he forgot the house of bondage, and he
forgot that other house where the wedding chamber yet waited for the
bride.

"I should have known you anywhere." His eyes dropped and he said no
more.

That act of recognition had only lasted a second; but it had made its
mark. Over the dim, fluttering table was the hush of a profound
astonishment. He neither saw nor felt it; nor did he hear Mrs. Downey
scattering the silence with agitated apologies.

"You'll excuse us beginning, Miss Harden; but it's Mr. Rickman's night
at the theatre."

Miss Harden looked at him again, lifting her eyebrows with that air of
interested inquiry that he knew so well. And yet, beyond those first
half dozen words he said nothing.

"Silly boy," said Mrs. Downey to herself, "why can't he say he's sorry
he has to go. I'm sure I gave him his opportunity." She was annoyed at
his rudeness.

Whether he were sorry or not, he went at his appointed time. He never
knew how he got out of the room, nor how he had behaved before going.
He had simply looked at her, held her hand and left her. And he had
not said a word; or none at least that he could remember.

Miss Harden was, it seemed, the guest, or the ostensible guest, of
Miss Roots. And Miss Roots enjoyed herself, delighting openly in the
recovery of the friend she had lost sight of for so many years. But
from Mrs. Downey's point of view the Dinner that night was not exactly
a success. Mr. Rickman had behaved in an extraordinary manner. Mr.
Soper and Miss Bishop had never looked so--well, so out of place and
common. And she could see that Mr. Spinks had taken advantage of the
general consternation to help himself outrageously to ginger.

Lucia took her friend aside when it was over. "You might have told me
he was here," said she.

"My dear, I didn't know you knew