Janet had dressed for the occasion with unusual care. A dark red evening gown of a filmy material showed to advantage the delicate contour of her form and the graceful curve of her snow-white shoulders and neck. Her lovely hair was wound in shining coils and held with a comb that sparkled with small but brilliant diamonds. Her long dark lashes drooped, and she flushed slightly as she met Donald’s look of undisguised admiration.
Mrs. Rennie was an excellent hostess. Her cultured and charming personality put Donald quite at ease. It seemed ages since he had worn a dress-suit and been entertained in a home of luxury and refinement. After the coarse fare of noisy restaurants which had been his, the excellent food, the rich linen, the home-like atmosphere and the subdued voices now gave him a pleasant thrill.
The conversation during dinner was on various subjects. At times it swung perilously near to matters pertaining to Donald’s personal affairs. On such occasions Douglas adroitly shifted it to other channels.
Janet studied Donald covertly. His perfect poise, his air of refinement and his evident lack of self-consciousness impressed her. “He is cultured and well-bred,” she thought as she noted his well-shaped head, his powerful shoulders and his clean-cut profile.
Near the finish of dinner, while waiting for coffee to be served, there came a lull in the conversation which was finally broken by Janet. “Doug tells me that you are engaged in the glove business, Mr. McLean,” she stated.
Donald shot a quick glance at Douglas, but his friend’s face was hidden in his handkerchief to smother a sudden attack of coughing. In spite of Donald’s great effort at self-control, he felt a warm flush rise in his cheeks. What had Douglas divulged? Did his sister know of his participation in a boxing-match? He looked at Douglas appealingly. It was evident that he would receive no aid from that quarter, as that young man’s only assistance was a prolonged coughing that effectually drowned immediate conversation, but would have to stop sooner or later for lack of breath.
At this crucial moment Robert Rennie came to his assistance. “I would like Mr. McLean to witness a sunset from our roof,” he said as he rose from the table. “Let us have our coffee served there. The light will be gone if we wait longer.”