Then
suddenly she was silent; her eyes looked tired and into them there crept
a strange secret little shudder as though she were afraid of some thought
or mysterious knowledge. She looked now like a little girl who knew, that
to-morrow--the inevitable to-morrow--she must go to the dentist's to be
tortured.
The last part of the meal was passed in silence. Afterwards she came into
his study and sat curled upon the floor at his feet watching him smoke.
She thought as she looked up at him, that something had happened to make
him younger. She had never seen him as young as he was to-night--and then
because his thoughts were far away and because her own troubled her she
made a diversion. She said:--
"Who _was_ that extraordinary man you were talking to this evening?"
He came back, with a jerk, from Stephen.
"What man?"
"Why the man with all the black hair and a funny squash hat. I saw Sarah
let him in."
"Ah, that," said Peter, looking down at her tenderly, "that was a great
friend of mine."
She moved her head away.
"Don't touch my hair, Peter--it's all been arranged for the party. A friend
of yours? What! That horrible looking man? Oh! I suppose he was one of
those dreadful people you knew in the slums or in Cornwall."
Peter saw Mr. Zanti's dear friendly face, like a moon, staring at him, and
heard his warm husky voice: "Peter, my boy.
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