"Won't you sit down?" he repeated, smiling at her with humourous
contemplation of her awkward distress.
The lady abruptly sat down on a sofa.
"Allow me to put a cushion at your back," Valentine said. And he passed
behind her to do so. But she quickly shifted round, almost as if in fear,
and faced him as he stood with his hand on the back of the sofa.
"No," she said, in a hurry; "I don't know as I want one, thanks."
She half got up.
"Have I come right?" she asked uneasily. "Is this the house?"
"Certainly. It's so good of you to come."
The words did not seem to carry any comfort to the lady. She passed the
tip of her tongue along her painted lips and looked towards the door.
"Pray, don't be alarmed," Valentine said, sitting down on a chair
immediately opposite to her.
"I ain't. But--but you're not the friend, are you?"
"I am; and the _ami des femmes_ too, I assure you. Be calm."
He bent forward, looking closely into her face. The lady leaned quickly
back and uttered a little gasp.
"What is the matter?" Valentine asked.
"Nothin', nothin'," the lady answered, returning his glance as if
fascinated into something that approached horror. "When's he comin'?
When's he comin'?"
"Directly.
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