"
He hastened to assure her that he had not forgotten her. He recollected
now that he had first been introduced to her in Walkham's house some
years ago, when a mere college boy, he had been privileged to attend one
of that master's famous receptions. She had looked quite resolute and
very happy then, not at all like the woman who had stared so strangely
at Reginald in the Broadway restaurant.
He regarded this encounter as very fortunate. He knew so much of her
personal history that it almost seemed to him as if they had been
intimate for years. She, too, felt on familiar ground with him. Neither
as much as whispered the name of Reginald Clarke. Yet it was he, and the
knowledge of what he was to them, that linked their souls with a common
bond.
XIV
It was the third day after their meeting. Hour by hour their intimacy
had increased. Ethel was sitting in a large wicker-chair. She restlessly
fingered her parasol, mechanically describing magic circles in the sand.
Ernest lay at her feet. With his knees clasped between his hands, he
gazed into her eyes.
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