“Good-bye,” he said earnestly. “Please forgive me. You are right. Quite right.”
She was able to go straight to her room without delay, and she at once locked the door with a little sigh of relief. She found herself struggling with a storm of tears.
A sob was strangled in her throat. She struggled fiercely not to give way.
“Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. “I am lonely. If I could but——”
To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. She tore open the envelope and read it.
“My Dear Girl,—
“I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. The fact is I was so glad to see you again that it never occurred to me that a little discretion might be advisable. I’m afraid I’m a terribly clumsy fellow.
“I hope that you are going to allow me to see something of you during your stay in London, for the sake of old times. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. I often think of those delightful evenings in Paris. May we not repeat them once, at any rate, in London?
“Ever yours,