But I trust you will not regret spending a few minutes alone
in my company. What can I do to make you happy?"
"I'm all right, thank you," she said, almost roughly. "Don't bother about
me."
"Who could help bothering about a pretty woman?" Valentine answered
suavely, and approaching his chair a little more closely to her. "Do
you know that my friend Addison can talk of nobody but you?"
"Oh!"
"Nobody. He raves about you."
"You're laughing," the lady said, still uncomfortably.
"Not at all. I never laugh."
As he made this last remark, Valentine slowly frowned. The effect of
this change of expression upon the lady was most extraordinary. She
leaned far back upon the sofa as if in retreat from the face that stared
upon her, mechanically thrusting out her hands in a faltering gesture of
self-defence. Then, planting her feet on the ground and using them as a
lever, she succeeded in moving the sofa backwards upon its castors, which
ran easily over the thick carpet. Valentine, on his part, did not stir,
but with immovable face regarded her apparent terror as a man regards
some spectacle neither new nor strange to him, silently awaiting its
eventual closing tableau. What this would have been cannot be known, for
at this moment the bell rang and the butler was heard moving in the hall.
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