"You fool! You fool!" she stormed at herself. "A man you have seen
once! He will despise you!"

She could not keep the dinner waiting. Bracing herself, she started
for the hall. A final glance in the mirror gave her better heart.
After all she was beautiful and beautifully dressed. She descended the
stairs slowly, whispering to herself at every step: "Be game!"

Though the sun was still shining out-of-doors, according to Colina's
fancy, every night at this hour the shutters were closed and the lamps
lighted. The drawing-room was lighted by a single, tall lamp with a
yellow shade.

Ambrose was standing in the middle of the room. He had changed his
clothes. His suit was somewhat wrinkled, and his boots unpolished, but
he looked less badly than he thought. At sight of Colina he caught his
breath and turned very pale. His eyes widened with something akin to
awe. Colina was suddenly relieved.

"So you dared to come!" she said with a careless smile.

He did not answer. Plainly he could not. He stood as if rooted to the
floor. Colina had meant to offer him her hand, but suddenly changed
her mind.

Instead, with reckless bravado considering her late state of mind, she
went to the lamp and turned it up. She felt his honest, stricken
glance following her, and thrilled under it.

"You have not met my father?"