He bent his eyes upon her, and noted
with a controlled exaltation how her glance in turn deferred
to his, and fluttered beneath it, and shrank away.
He squared his big shoulders and lifted his head.
Still holding her jewelled hand in his, he turned and led
her toward the sofa. Halting, he bowed with an exaggerated
genuflection and flourish of his free hand to Miss Madden,
the while he flashed at her a glance at once of challenge
and of deprecation. Through the sensitized contact of the
other hand, he felt that the woman he held bowed also,
and in his own spirit of confused defiance and entreaty.
The laugh he gave then seemed to dispel the awkwardness
which had momentarily hung over the mocking salutation.
Miss Madden laughed too. "Oh, I surrender," she said.
"You drag congratulations from me."
Some quality in the tone of this ungracious speech
had the effect of putting the party at its ease.
Lady Cressage seated herself beside her friend on the sofa,
and gently, abstractedly, patted one of her hands.
Thorpe remained on his feet, looking down at the pair
with satisfied cheerfulness. He tool, a slip of paper
from his pocket, to support a statement he was making.
"I'm forever telling you what a strain the City is on a man
in my position," he said--"and today I had the curiosity
to keep an account of what happened.
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