The secret in which he
lived in that regard was apparently safe from that young, amiable,
good-looking real-estate broker. He inferred, from the absence of any
allusion to the superstition of the women as to his profession, that it
had not spread to Bushwick at least, and this inclined him the more to
like him. They sat up talking pleasantly together about impersonal
affairs till Bushwick finished his cigar. Then he started for bed,
saying, "Well, good-night. I hope Mrs. Westangle won't have anything so
active on the tapis for tomorrow."
"Try and sleep it off. Good-night."
XV.
Verrian remained to finish his cigar, but at the end he was not yet
sleepy, and he thought he would get a book from the library, if that part
of the house were still lighted, and he looked out to see. Apparently it
was as brilliantly illuminated as when the company had separated there
for the night, and he pushed across the foyer hall that separated the
billiard-room from the drawing-zoom and library. He entered the
drawing-room, and in the depths of the library, relieved against the rows
of books in their glass cases, he startled Miss Shirley from a pose which
she seemed to be taking there alone.
At the instant of their mutual recognition she gave a little muted
shriek, and then gasped out, "I beg your pardon," while he was saying,
too, "I beg your pardon.
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