see you very much. I have not done any work while you have stayed away, and now my father speaks of going home; I fear I shall never finish my Milanion."
"You only wanted your model, then; you did not care to see me?"
"But you are my model."
"Yes, and something else besides. Shall I tell you what?"
The twilight had fallen on them, and through the open door of the drawing-room streamed a bright light, showing the face of a man who at that moment advanced toward Mrs. Harden. It was Philip Rondelet.
"I am so glad you have come, Dr. Rondelet," said Sara, rising to greet him; "I have been wanting to see you ever since my return. Here are some friends of yours,—Margaret, Mr. Feuardent. General Ruysdale and Darius have just gone inside."
Margaret, grown white and trembling, rose, and in the dimness either did not or feigned not to see the hand Philip held out to her. Bowing slightly to Feuardent, he took his place at Mrs. Harden's side.
"You have seen Miss Ruysdale, of course, since you got back," she whispered.
"I have not had the good fortune to find her at home," answered Philip.
