Ella was still lying on the broad pillows of the couch, her hands clasped at the back of her head.  She was still watching Phyllis through her half-closed eyes.

“I was not thinking about Mr. Courtland in the least when I spoke.  How can you fancy that I should be so insincere?  I say it is delightful for us, you and me only, mind, to be together to-night, because we can say just whatever occurs to us—­I thought we could, you know; but since you made that horrid suggestion I think I must take back all that I said.  It is, after all, not nearly so nice to be alone with you as one would imagine.”

“That was, I’m afraid, the conclusion that Herbert Courtland came to some time ago,” said Ella.  “He was alone with me here—­yes, for some minutes; but he left me—­he left me and found you.”

“It was so funny!” cried Phyllis.  “Who would have thought of seeing such a figure—­bareheaded and in evening dress—­on the road?  I knew him at once, however.  And he was walking so quickly too—­walking as if—­as if——­”

“As if the devil were behind him—­that’s how men put it,” said Ella.  “It would never do for us to say that, of course, but in this particular case we might venture on it for the sake of strict accuracy; the devil was behind him.  He escaped from it by the aid of his good angel.  Didn’t he call you his good angel once, my Phyllis?”

“Yes, he called me so once,” said Phyllis.  “But why should we talk about Mr. Courtland?  Why should we talk about anybody to-night?  Dearest Ella, let us talk about ourselves.  You are of more interest to me than anyone in the world, and I know that I am of more interest to you than to anyone else.  Let us talk about ourselves.”

“Certainly we shall talk about ourselves,” said Ella.  “To begin, I should like very much to know if you were aware that Herbert had returned to this house after his day or two in town.”

Phyllis undoubtedly colored before she said, with a laugh: 

“Didn’t you promise to talk solely about ourselves?  I decline to talk on any other topic.”

She arose from where she had been sitting before a cup of tea at a little table that also held cake, and threw herself back in a fanciful seat shaped like a shell.

“That being so, I should like very much to know how you learned that he meant to return,” pursued Ella.

“You are becoming quite horrid, and I expected you to be so nice,” said Phyllis, pouting very prettily.

“And I expected you to confide in me,” said Ella reproachfully.  “I have been watching you for some time—­not merely during the past week, but long before; and I have seen—­what I have seen.  He could not have told you that he meant to return—­you must have crossed each other in the trains.  How did you know, my dear girl?  Let me coax it out of you.”

Phyllis made no answer for some time; she was examining, with a newly acquired, but very intense interest, the texture of the sheen of the blouse which she was wearing.  At last she raised her eyes, and saw how Ella was looking at her.  Then she said slowly: