"Mr. Dasy has been here idling away the afternoon," I said as lightly as I could, "and I thought I would utilize his services."
"Delighted, I'm sure," put in poor Hector, who had been looking for his tongue and had only just found it.
"You have my letters, have you not, Elsie?" asked Arthur, coming at once to business.
"Yes," I said coldly, "I took them because I thought they—er—looked—er—important," lamely.
Hector Dasy soon found an opportunity to go. Of course he knew I had a husband, but I presume he had not reckoned upon an introduction while wool-winding. Poor Hector! I felt a little guilty, or should have done if I had given myself the time.
"Dasy seems a nice young fellow, Elsie," said Arthur coolly, at dinner that night. "His family have lived in Kew for years. Eminently respectable. Old Dasy left them well off. I am glad you have discovered congenial society among our neighbors, Elsie," looking at me in such a friendly, disinterested fashion, that I shuddered.
