When he finally got back to his room, he hauled out his bag and began to pack—slowly, with long periods of abstraction.
It was thus the baron found him. It needed but a glance at Selden’s tortured face to tell that astute old student of human nature what was amiss.
“Yes, I am back, you see,” he said, as he took the proffered chair. “Everything is arranged, and I have come to ask you to do Madame Davis and myself one more favour. I have no shame—I am always asking!”
“What is the favour?”
“The articles of settlement are to be signed to-morrow morning. Mrs. Davis would consider it a very great favour, and so should I, if you would sign as a witness in her behalf.”
Selden hesitated.
“There is nothing in the terms of the settlement to which you could object,” went on the baron. “The entire fortune of Miss Davis remains absolutely in her hands. The prince gets nothing, except a small annuity. We preferred it so. We hope, of course, that she will choose to use a portion of her fortune to rehabilitate our country—which will be her country also—but the bulk of it will be conserved for the benefit of her children.”
Still Selden hesitated.
“Come,” said the baron, “tell me frankly what is in your thought.”
“I am wondering,” said Selden, “whether Miss Davis will be happy. It is evident that she is not in love.”