Only he missed the Incubus. Searching the room with his eyes, he at
length discovered that incoherent, desiccated, but persistent youth
VIS-A-VIS with a stranger. Orde made out the white of her gown in
the shadows, the willowy outline of her small and slender figure,
and the gracious forward bend of her head.
The company present caught sight of Orde standing in the doorway,
and suspended occupations to shout at him joyfully. He was
evidently a favourite. The strange girl in the corner turned to him
a white, long face, of which he could see only the outline and the
redness of the lips where the lamplight reached them. She leaned
slightly forward and the lips parted. Orde's muscular figure,
standing square and uncompromising in the doorway, the out-of-door
freshness of his complexion, the steadiness of his eyes laughing
back a greeting, had evidently attracted her. Or perhaps anything
was a relief from the Incubus.
"So you're back at last, are you, Jack?" drawled Jane in her lazy,
good-natured way. "Come and meet Miss Bishop. Carroll, I want to
present Mr. Orde."
Orde bowed ceremoniously into the penumbra cast by the lamp's broad
shade. The girl inclined gracefully her small head with the glossy
hair.
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