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He could see shadows passing across the orange square of light the window threw on the cobbles of the court. A light went on in an upper window, sending a faint glow over the disorderly tiles of the roof of the shed opposite. The door opened and Yvonne and her cousin stood on the broad stone doorstep chattering.
"Because you are a nation of business, and " "And brains," said Gethryn, drily. There was an uncomfortable pause. Gethryn looked at the girl. She lay with her face turned from him. "Helene!" No answer. "Yvonne Mademoiselle!" No answer. "It's two o'clock." A slight impatient movement of the head. "Good night." Gethryn rose. "Good night," he repeated. He waited for a moment.
Yvonne looked up as he opened the door, and he saw that her eyes were dim. He knelt on a corner of the music-chair and clasped his arms tightly about her shoulders, pressing her cheek against his. As she ceased playing and turned her head he kissed her ardently, holding her fast and watching her with those yearning eyes whose gaze can make a woman's heart beat faster.
I slept, and dreamed that the Misses Vicary had brought several pairs of white gloves in order to have me dismissed from the society of the train. A hand touched me. It was Yvonne's. I awoke to a renewal of the maddening vibration. We had quitted Paris long since. It was after seven o'clock. 'On dit que le diner est servi, madame said Yvonne.
"Oh, in that case, you needn't come, Yvonne, as I have an engagement with the Princess Helene of Troy." "But you mustn't kiss me!" she cried, hastily placing the table between herself and Gethryn; "you have not yet been presented. Oh, Rex! Don't be so so idiotic; you spoil my dress there yes, only one, but don't you dare to try Oh Rex! Now I am all in wrinkles you you bear!"
Yvonne smoothed her skirt and moved to a discreet distance from Paul as a parlourmaid came in. Paul leapt up, eagerly. "Captain Courtier?" he cried to the girl. "Yes, sir." Paul ran out into the hall. Yvonne rose from the Chesterfield and slowly walked back to the piano. She stood for a while idly turning over the pages of music; then, as her husband did not return, she went up to her room.
The rest of the human bundle seemed to consist of an oldish man, with long, gaunt legs and arms blue with the cold. He turned vague, wide-open eyes in the direction whence had come the harsh voices. "Are they friends, Yvonne?" he asked anxiously. The girl did her best to reassure him.
But Yvonne Fleury could have explained that, unlike American girls, French girls were not accustomed to intimate association with one another, their lives up to the time of their marriage being spent in seclusion among the members of their own family. Indeed, upon this same afternoon Yvonne was thinking of this as she dressed slowly before going outdoors to join the other girls.
I hate the man so, for all he did to Yvonne; and when he dared to raise his hopes to me, knowing that I had been her nearest and dearest friend, knowing also that I was once pledged to Stanislaus, I was filled with a bitter hatred more terrible than words can describe. Oh, if you knew the bitterness of one who is used only for a tool, because she happens to possess beauty.
I had slept soundly four hours and was much refreshed, though the bumps in the ground had bruised me, and I could hardly move my head. Yvonne had stood the journey so far very well though unable as yet to walk, but as the cool of the evening came on I began to worry lest a night out of doors set her screaming with pain.
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