"He will not be here till the end of the week," she replied, fretfully. "He may not be here at all."
"I am sorry," I said.
"You are not," she retorted, fiercely. "You are glad."
And certainly it was she who spoke the truth.
We went up in the lift to look at our rooms, and then I came down again to order dinner. Returning to inform Barbara that it would be ready in twenty minutes, I found the door locked.
"Let me alone," Barbara cried from within. "I don't want any dinner. You can have it without me. It won't spoil your appetite."
I turned to go downstairs and met Annette.
"Is my wife unwell?" I asked.
"Madame is disturbed that her brother has not arrived," the woman answered. "She does not require me any longer to-night. I am to get something to eat and go to bed. Good-night, monsieur."
"Good-night, Annette."