Poor Angelot! he looked unhappy enough, there in the distance, sitting in most unusual sulks and silence.
There was an opportunity for a word, as he led her back from the dining-room, through the smaller salon, into the large lighted room where all the guests had preceded them.
"I don't wonder that you love your uncle," she said to him.
"I don't love him, when I see him talking to you. I am too jealous."
"How absurd!"
"Besides, I am angry with him. He has not done something that I asked him. Delay is dangerous, and I live in terror."
"What?" she asked, turning a little white.
"If you would give me the Empire, I could not tell you now."
They were in the salon. He put his heels together and bowed; she swept him a curtsey.
"Help me to hand the coffee," she said under her breath.