"
"Everybody?" he murmured.
She stretched out her hand impulsively. He held it in his with a tender,
caressing clasp. There seemed to be no need of words. The moment was in
its way so wonderful that neither of them heard the opening of the door.
It was only the surprised exclamation of the man who had entered which
brought them back to a very sordid present.
CHAPTER VII
"I fear" the newcomer remarked, as he softly closed the door behind him,
"that I am an intruder. Perhaps, Josephine, I may be favoured with an
introduction to this gentleman? He is a stranger to me, so far as I
remember. An old friend of yours, I presume?"
He advanced a step or two farther into the room, a slim,
effeminate-looking person of barely medium height, dressed with the
utmost care, of apparently no more than middle age but with crow's-feet
about his eyes and sagging pockets of flesh underneath them. His closely
trimmed, sandy moustache was streaked with grey, his eyes were a little
bloodshot, he had the shrinking manner of one who suffers from habitual
nervousness. Josephine, after her first start of surprise, watched him
with coldly questioning eyes.
"I hope you have dined, Henry," she said. "A waiter rang up from
somewhere to say you would not be home."
"A message which I do not doubt left you inconsolable," he observed,
with a little curl of his lips.
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