Molly crossed the room hastily.
“I hear madame calling,” she explained.
Rosina knew that madame was down a corridor well around the corner, and that she was not in the habit of calling for anything or anybody, but she felt no desire to cover her friend with shame by forcing her to admit that she was lying. Indeed, just at that particular moment Molly’s absence appeared to be a very desirable quota in the general scheme of things. So the girl went away and stayed away—being wise in her views as to life and love affairs.
When they were alone Von Ibn flung himself into an arm-chair and stretched forth his hand almost as if to command her approach to his side. She stood still, but she could feel her color rising and was desperately annoyed that it should be so.
“You are not angry that I be here?” he asked.
She drew a quick little breath and then turned to seat herself.
“You must have known that I must come,” he continued.
She felt her lips tremble, and was furious at them for it.
“I played the ‘Souvenir’ last night,” he said, dropping his eyes and sinking his voice; “it is then plain to me that I must travel to-day.”
Something dragged her gaze upward until their eyes met.