Lavinia turned to Vane a little ruffled.
"You don't recollect me," she said. "The money's ours. I didn't want it
but you did and so I brought it back. I'm so glad I was in time and
that you're rid of that horrid man."
Lancelot Vane stared fixedly at her. The events of the night before were
mixed up in his mind and he had but a dim remembrance of the girl's
face. Indeed he had caught only a momentary glimpse of it.
"Was it you, madam, who were pursued by those ruffians?" he stammered.
"I'm grateful that you've come to no harm."
"Oh, it was all your doing," cried Lavinia, eagerly, "you were so brave
and kind. I was too frightened last night to think of anything but
getting away and I didn't thank you. I want to do so now."
"No, no. It's you who should be thanked. Don't stand there, pray. Do
come inside. It's a frightfully dirty room but it's the best I have."
"But I--I must get back."
"You're in no hurry, I hope. I've so much I would like to say to you."
"What can you have? We're such strangers," she protested.
"Just now we are perhaps, but every minute we talk together makes us
less so. Please enter."
His voice was so entreating, his manner so deferential, she could not
resist. She ventured within a few steps and while he cleared a chair
from its books and papers her eyes wandered round. One end of the room
was curtained off and the opening between the curtains revealed a bed.
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