He felt her eyes seeking his, studying his face.
Perhaps she was only anxious that he should not misunderstand.
"George, are you ready?" his host called out. "We're going to take
Smith's pastures."
"Quite!" Duncombe answered. "Until this evening, Miss Fielding."
"You are dining at Runton Place?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," he answered. "Will you tell me all about your Andrew Pelham?"
She raised her eyes to his and smiled.
"Do you think that you would be interested?" she asked.
"You know that I should," he answered quietly.
For a time he shot badly. Then he felt that his host's eye was upon him,
and pulled himself together. But he was never at his best. He felt that
the whole world of his sensations had been suddenly disturbed. It was
impossible that there could be any connection between this girl and the
photograph which had first fired him with the impulse to undertake that
most extraordinary and quixotic mission. Yet the fact remained that the
girl herself had had very much the same effect upon him as his first
sight of the photograph. It was a coincidence, of course. Miss Fielding
was charming. There was no reason why he should not indulge to the full
his admiration of her.
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