A long time passed. I stopped reading. Brian seemed inclined for the
first time since his misfortune to talk over ways and means, and how we
were to arrange our future. I shirked the discussion. Things would
adjust themselves, I said evasively. I had some vague plans. Perhaps
they would soon materialize. Even by to-morrow----
When I had got as far as that, tap, tap, came the long expected knock at
the door. I sprang up. Suddenly the ether-like carelessness was gone. My
life--my very soul--was at stake. I could hardly utter the little word
"_Entrez!_" my throat was so tight, so dry.
The very young youth who opened the door was not the one I had sent to
the Ritz. But I had no time to wonder why not, when he announced: "_Un
monsieur et une dame, en bas, demandent a voir Mademoiselle_."
My head whirled. Could it be?--but, surely no! They would not have come
to see me. Yet whom did I know in Paris? Who had learned that we were at
this hotel? Had the monsieur and the dame given their name? No, they had
not. They had said that Mademoiselle would understand. They were in the
_salon_.
I heard myself reply that I would descend _tout de suite_. I heard
myself tell Brian that I should not be long away. I saw my face in the
glass, deathly pale in its frame of dark hair, the eyes immense, with
the pupils dilating over the blue, as an inky pool might drown a border
of violets and blot out their colour. Even my lips were white.
Pages:
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42