The girl looked up with a start.
"Of course, madame," she said, with a certain submissiveness which surprised Ricardo. "I hope I have not kept you waiting."
She ran to the cloak-room, and came back again with her cloak.
"Good-bye, Harry," she said, dwelling upon his name and looking out upon him with soft and smiling eyes.
"I shall see you to-morrow evening," he said, holding her hand. Again she let it stay within his keeping, but she frowned, and a sudden gravity settled like a cloud upon her face. She turned to the elder woman with a sort of appeal.
"No, I do not think we shall be here, to-morrow, shall we, madame?" she said reluctantly.
"Of course not," said madame briskly. "You have not forgotten what we have planned? No, we shall not be here to-morrow; but the night after—yes."
Celia turned back again to Wethermill.
"Yes, we have plans for to-morrow," she said, with a very wistful note of regret in her voice; and seeing that madame was already at the door, she bent forward and said timidly, "But the night after I shall want you."
"I shall thank you for wanting me," Wethermill rejoined; and the girl tore her hand away and ran up the steps.