The frown faded from Valentine's face, and the lady sprang up from the
sofa with a violent, almost a passionate, eagerness. Julian entered
hastily.
"Why was you late?" Cuckoo Bright cried out, hastening up to him
and speaking almost angrily. "Why was you late? I didn't think--I
didn't--oh!"
Her voice sounded like the voice of one on the verge of tears. Julian
looked astonished.
"I am very sorry," he began. "But I didn't know you would be here so
soon."
He glanced from the lady to Valentine inquiringly, as much as to say:
"How have you been getting on?"
Valentine's expression was gay and reassuring.
"I have been entertaining your friend, Julian," he said. "But she has
been almost inconsolable in your absence. She was standing up because I
was just about to show her the pictures. But now you are here, we will
have tea first instead. Ah, here is tea. Miss Bright, do come and sit by
the fire, and put your feet on this stool. We will wait upon you."
Since the entrance of Julian, his manner had entirely changed. All the
irony, all the mock politeness, had died out of it. He was now a kind and
delicately courteous host, desirous of putting his guests upon good terms
and gilding the passing hour with a definite happiness.
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