Attired in a suit of shining black alpaca, the visitor had evidently prepared himself with some care for a possible interview.

He was seated by the French window opening upon the veranda, as if to secure a retreat in case of an emergency.

Scrupulously washed and shaven, some of the soap appeared to have lingered in his eyes and inflamed the lids, even while it lent a sleek and shining lustre, not unlike his coat, to his smooth black hair.

Nevertheless, leaning back in his chair, he had allowed a large white handkerchief to depend gracefully from his fingers--a pose at once suggesting easy and elegant langour.
"How kind of you to give me an opportunity to make up for my misfortune when you last called! I was so sorry to have missed you.

But it was entirely my fault! You were hurried, I think--you conversed with others in the hall--you--" She stopped to assist him to pick up the handkerchief that had fallen, and the Panama hat that had rolled from his lap towards the window when he had started suddenly to his feet at the apparition of grace and beauty.