Lord
Babbacombe," appealing suddenly to her host, "can't you persuade Mr.
West to come to the third act? I always prefer to skip the second. And
we finished the first long ago."
Babbacombe came to her assistance with his courteous smile. "Miss
Mortimer considers herself in your debt, Mr. West," he said. "I think
you will hurt her feelings if you try to repudiate her obligation."
"Yes, of course," laughed Cynthia. "It was a mighty big debt, and I have
been wondering ever since how to get even with you. Oh, you needn't
scowl. That doesn't hurt me at all. Do you know you haven't altered a
mite, you funny English bulldog? Come, you know me now?"
"Yes, I know you," West said. "But I think it is a pity that you have
renewed your acquaintance with me, and the sooner you drop me again the
better." He spoke briefly and very decidedly, and having thus expressed
himself he turned to Babbacombe. "I am going to the library. Perhaps you
will join me there at your convenience."
With an abrupt bow to Cynthia, he turned to go. But instantly the high
voice arrested him.
"Mr. West!"
He paused.
"Mr. West!" she said again, her voice half-imperious, half-pleading.
Reluctantly he faced round. She was waiting for him with a little smile
quivering about her mouth. Her grey eyes met his with perfect composure.
"I want to know," she said, in her softest drawl, "if it is for my sake
or your own that you regret this renewal of acquaintance.
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