He would be impatiently waiting for me at the hotel
door, perhaps; and I quickened my steps, in haste to give him details
of my doings.
Entering the garden, I had to bound onto the grass, to escape being
run over by a pair of horses prancing round the curve, at my back. I
turned with a basilisk glare intended for the coachman, but instead
met the astonished gaze of the very last eyes I could possibly have
expected. My glare melted into a smile, but not one of my best, though
the eyes which called it forth were alluringly beautiful.
"Contessa!" I exclaimed. "Is this you, or your astral body?"
"Lord Lane!" the lovely lady-of-the-eyes responded. "But no, it is not
possible!"
Just as I was about to protest that it was not only possible, but
certain, I caught sight of the Boy, in the doorway. As, at the
Contessa's word, the carriage came to a sudden halt, she reaching out
to me two little grey suede hands, the slim figure at the door drew
back a step, as if involuntarily; but there was no getting round it,
my Italian beauty had made Boy a present of my name, whether he wanted
it or not.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XV
Enter the Contessa
"She was the smallest lady alive,
Made in a piece of nature's madness,
Too small, almost, for the life and gladness
That over-filled her."
--ROBERT BROWNING.
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