I am still shaking with passion, and shall go to bed. I do not want any dinner.
Tuesday morning, Nov. 29th.
Véronique would not let me go to bed, she insisted upon my eating, and then after dinner I sat in an old, but lovely wrap of white crêpe, and she brushed out my hair for more than an hour—there is such a tremendous lot of it, it takes time.
I sat in front of the sitting-room fire, and tried not to think. One does feel a wreck after a scene like that. At about half past nine I heard noises in the passage of people, and with only a preliminary tap Robert and Lady Merrenden came into the room. I started up, and Véronique dropped the brush, in her astonishment, and then left us alone.
Both their eyes were shining, and excited, and Robert looked crazy with joy; he seized me in his arms and kissed me, and kissed me, while Lady Merrenden said, “You darling, Evangeline, you plucky, clever girl, tell us all about it!”
“About what!” I said, as soon as I could speak.
“How you managed it.”
“Oh, I must kiss her first, Aunt Sophia!” said Robert. “Did you ever see anything so divinely lovely as she looks with her hair all floating like this—and it is all mine—every bit of it!!!”
“Yes, it is,” I said sadly. “And that is about all of value you will get!”
“Come and sit down,” said Robert, “Evangeline, you darling—and look at this!”