Miss Gaines who, as she swept him back to the marquee, cried out to Amherst that her mother was asking for him too; and then Justine had time to observe that her remaining companion had no intention of responding to his hostess’s appeal.
Westy, in naming her, had laid just enough stress on the name to let it serve as a reminder or an introduction, as circumstances might decide, and she saw that Amherst, roused from his abstraction by the proffered clue, was holding his hand out doubtfully.
“I think we haven’t met for some years,” he said.
Justine smiled. “I have a better reason than you for remembering the exact date;” and in response to his look of surprise she added: “You made me commit a professional breach of faith, and I’ve never known since whether to be glad or sorry.”
Amherst still bent on her the gaze which seemed to find in external details an obstacle rather than a help to recognition; but suddenly his face cleared. “It was you who told me the truth about poor Dillon! I couldn’t imagine why I seemed to see you in such a different setting…”
“Oh, I’m disguised as a lady this afternoon,” she said smiling. “But I’m glad you saw through the disguise.”
He smiled back at her. “Are you? Why?”
“It seems to make it—if it’s so transparent—less of a sham, less of a dishonesty,” she began impulsively,
[ 161 ]
