He sprang up, his eyes flashing a sort
of shower of sparks over me, gladness in every line of his
face, and surprise, and a kind of inexpressible deference in
his manner.
"Daisy!" — he exclaimed — "Miss Randolph!"
"Daisy!" echoed Miss Cardigan. "My dear! — do you two know
each other? Where did you come from?"
I think I did not answer. I am sure Thorold did not. He was
caring for me, placing his chair nearer his aunt and putting
me into it, before he let go the hand he had taken. Then,
drawing up another chair on the other side of me, he sat down
and looked at me (I thought afterward, I only felt at the
moment) as if I had been some precious wonder; the Koh-i-noor
diamond, or anything of that sort.
"Where did you come from?" was his first question.
"I have been in the house a little while," I said. "I thought
at first Miss Cardigan had somebody with her on business, so I
would not come in."
"It is quite true, Daisy," said Miss Cardigan; "it is somebody
on business."
"Nothing private about it, though," said Thorold, smiling at
me.
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