"You could not at one time, you mean." "You gave me no encouragement,--so I must, perforce, fare elsewhere." "And now?" she asked. "How many love affairs have you come down here to settle?" he laughed. "By the way, Croyden is impatient to come over this afternoon. The guest in the trap with Miss Carrington has aroused his curiosity. He could see only a long brown coat and a brown hat, but the muff before your face, and his imagination, did the rest." "Does he suspect?" she inquired, anxiously. "That it's you? No! no! It's simply the country town beginning to tell on him. He is curious about new guests, and Miss Carrington hadn't mentioned your coming! He suggested, in a vague sort of way, that there was something familiar about you, but he didn't attempt to particularize. It was only a momentary idea." She looked her relief. "Shall you meet him alone?" "I think not--we shall all be present." "And _how_ shall you meet him?" "It depends on how he meets me." "I reckon you don't know much about it--haven't any plans?" "No, I haven't. Everything depends on the moment. He will know why I'm here, and whether he is glad or sorry or displeased at my coming, I shall know instantly. I shall then have my cue. It's absurd, this notion of his, and why let it rule him and me! I've always got what I wanted, and I'm going to get Geoffrey. A Queen of a Nation must propose to a suitor, so why not a Queen of Money to a man less rich than she--especially when she is convinced that that alone keeps them apart. I shall give him a chance to propose to me first; several chances, indeed!" she laughed. "Then, if he doesn't respond--I shall do it myself." XVII A HANDKERCHIEF AND A GLOVE Miss Cavendish was standing behind the curtains in the window of her room, when Croyden and Macloud came up the walk, at four o'clock. She was waiting!--not another touch to be given to her attire. Her gown, of shimmering blue silk, clung to her figure with every movement, and fell to the floor in suggestively revealing folds. Her dark hair was arranged in simple fashion--the simplicity of exquisite taste--making the fair face below it, seem fairer even than it was. She was going to win this man. She heard them enter the lower hall, and pass into the drawing-room. She glided out to the stairway, and stood, peering down over the balustrade. She heard Miss Carrington's greeting and theirs--heard Macloud's chuckle, and Croyden's quiet laugh. Then she heard Macloud say: "Mr. Croyden is anxious to meet your guest--at least, we took her to be a guest you were driving with this morning." "My guest is equally anxious to meet Mr. Croyden," Miss Carrington replied. "Why does she tarry, then?" laughed Croyden. "Did you ever know a woman to be ready?" "You were." "I am the hostess!" she explained. "Mr. Croyden imagined there was something familiar about her," Macloud remarked. "Do you mean you recognized her?" Miss Carrington asked.