Not even so confirmed a misanthrope as the hermit of Far End could have entirely resisted the Lavender Lady, with her serene aroma of an old-world courtesy and grace long since departed from these hurrying twentieth-century days.
She moved away to the tea-table, leaving Trent and Sara standing together in the bay of the window.
"So you are overcoming your distaste for visiting," said Sara a little nervously.

"I didn't expect to meet you here." His glance held hers.
"You wished it," he answered gravely.
A sudden colour flamed up into the warm pallor of her skin.
"Are you suggesting I invited you to meet me here ?" she responded, willfully misinterpreting him.

She shook her read regretfully.

"You must have misunderstood me.

I should never have imposed such a strain on your politeness." His eyes glinted.
"Do you know," he said quietly, "that I should very much like to shake you ?" "I'm glad," she answered heartily.