“You are very kind,” she said hesitatingly, “but I don’t remember—I don’t think that I know you, do I?” “I am afraid that you do not,” he admitted, with a smile which he meant to be encouraging. In truth, she had been quite glad to lose the argument about remaining while the bullet was dug out of Jack’s side. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. She formed a habit which embarrassed Spurlock greatly, but at first he dared not complain. ’ Kimble frowned direfully, staring at the weapon with its gold hilt and decorative pattern down the blade. She went to her own table and sat down. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that.
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