"Sophy, indeed!" Louise exclaimed. "I thought she was in the country, on tour, and was not expected back until to-morrow."
"I thought she went away for a week," John said, "but there she is, waiting down-stairs."
Louise hesitated for a moment. Then she came over to John with a tremulous little smile at the corners of her lips.
"Dear," she said, "I am in a strange frame of mind to-day. I don't want even to see Sophy. Tell them to send her up here. She can wait for you while you take me out the other way."
"May I tell her?" John asked, as he rang for the lift. "She has been such a good little pal!"
Once more Louise seemed to hesitate. A vague look of trouble clouded her face.
"Perhaps you had better, dear," she agreed spiritlessly. "Only tell her not to breathe it to another soul. It is to be our secret for a little time—not long—just a day or two longer."
The gates of the lift swung open, and John raised her fingers to his lips.
"It is for you to say, dear," he promised.
When he came back to his room, Sophy was curled up on the couch with a cigarette between her lips. She looked at him severely.