“Ginette Grandison’s brother,” Anne said to herself, looking into the surly, boyish face, and noticing Grandison’s shyness. Meanwhile the porter with the lovely cheekbones had disappeared with her suit-case.
“What does the porter matter?” she thought. “What does the suit-case matter? What does it matter what this young man is mumbling about Richard? No, nothing matters. This is Paris; I have arrived, and a delightful happy life awaits me with these charming people. The opera ... friends.” In such a mood it seemed scarcely surprising that Richard should after all come up to them just as they were climbing into a cab.
“What is the latest news from Dry Coulter?” he asked, taking the seat beside her. Anne had not slept; the channel crossing by night was too exciting an experience to be missed, and she had remained on deck, watching the receding lights of England disappear, and then the lights of France springing up out of the darkness and growing in brilliance and in number.
“Dry Coulter?” she asked, and for the first moment the name conveyed nothing to her. “How can you ask about Dry Coulter when we are in Paris!” Richard laughed and Anne added at once: “Oh, I went with your father and mother and Rachel to see the new cottages, and the site for the hotel.”
“What hotel?” asked Richard, but while Anne was explaining she did not notice the look of anxiety on his face, for she was too much taken up with looking out of the taxi window. Soon she was asking questions: “What is that building? that street? that monument?” and was astonished that neither Richard nor his friend could tell her. She would have liked to spend hours driving about Paris, feeling Mr. Grandison’s gaze fixed upon her, and aware of the slight flush on her own cheek, but suddenly they rattled over a bridge and had turned into a narrow lane.
“I have taken a room for you here,” said Richard as they drew up. “You get your breakfast in your room, and an evening meal for about four shillings a day. I took it for a week. I suppose you will be staying a week in Paris.”
“I shall be staying for ever,” answered Anne.
Grandison gave a short, loud laugh. “I like the way you said that,” he exclaimed, handing her suit-case out of the cab.
A sleepy-looking man had opened the hotel door, and was taking her luggage.
“We’ll call for you this evening, and take you out to dinner if that would suit you,” said Richard; and the next moment the taxi began to move off and she found herself alone.