Also he would want to
kiss her, and she did so want her dinner!
She stood up--and then the door opened and, instead of Jack, Timmy
Tosswill came through it. For the first time in their acquaintance she
was glad to see the boy, though she told herself that of course he had
brought her a letter--another of those odious, reproachful letters from
Jack.
"Good evening, Timmy," she spoke, as she always did speak, pleasantly.
"Have you brought me a message from Rosamund? I hope she hasn't thrown me
over? I'm expecting her to lunch to-morrow, you know."
"I didn't know," he said gravely, "and I've not brought a message from
anyone, Mrs. Crofton. My coming is a secret."
"A secret?" Again she spoke easily, jokingly; but there came over her a
strange, involuntary feeling of repulsion for the odd-looking child.
He came up close to her, and, putting his hands behind his back, began to
stare fixedly beyond her, at the empty space between her chair and the
white wall.
There crept over Enid Crofton a sensation of acute discomfort. She
stepped back, and sat down in her low, easy-chair. What was Timmy looking
at with that curious, fixed stare?
It was in vain that she reminded herself that no sensible person now
believes in ghosts, and that she had but to press the bell on the other
side of the fireplace to ensure the attendance of her cheerful servant.
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