"It is early yet," pleaded the stranger, "I was looking forward to a
talk with you."
"Well, you'll be able to look forward to it," retorted Miss Kite.
"Good-night."
The truth was, Miss Kite was impatient to have a look at herself in
the glass, in her own room with the door shut. The vision of that
other Miss Kite--the clean-looking lady of the pale face and the brown
hair had been so vivid, Miss Kite wondered whether temporary
forgetfulness might not have fallen upon her while dressing for dinner
that evening.
The stranger, left to his own devices, strolled towards the loo table,
seeking something to read.
"You seem to have frightened away Miss Kite," remarked the lady who
was cousin to a baronet.
"It seems so," admitted the stranger.
"My cousin, Sir William Bosster," observed the crocheting lady, "who
married old Lord Egham's niece--you never met the Eghams?"
"Hitherto," replied the stranger, "I have not had that pleasure."
"A charming family. Cannot understand--my cousin Sir William, I mean,
cannot understand my remaining here. 'My dear Emily'--he says the
same thing every time he sees me: 'My dear Emily, how can you exist
among the sort of people one meets with in a boarding-house.' But
they amuse me."
A sense of humour, agreed the stranger, was always of advantage.
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