He was different then! Will you go out to him now? I promised to
send you."
Guest was sitting upon the terrace, exactly as I had left him. His eyes
were fixed upon vacancy, his lips were slightly curled in a meditative
smile. There was a distinct change in his appearance. His expression was
more peaceful, the slight restlessness had disappeared from his manner.
But he had never looked to me more like a dying man.
"Lady Dennisford sent me out," I remarked, "She has ordered a pony-cart
to take us home."
He nodded.
"I am quite ready," he said.
He tried to rise, but the effort seemed too much for him. I hastened to
his aid, or I think that he would have fallen. He leaned on my arm
heavily as we passed on our way to the avenue, where a carriage was
already awaiting us.
"I was once," he remarked, in an ordinary conversational tone, "engaged
to be married to Lady Dennisford."
"There was no--disagreement between you?" I asked.
"None that has not been healed," he answered softly.
"You would consider her to-day as a friend--not a likely enemy?" I asked.
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