"Ingeborg," said the Bishop in a voice she did not know. "Paris?"
"Yes, father—last night."
"Ingeborg, come here."
He was pointing to a chair a yard or two from the hearthrug on which he stood, and his voice was very strange.
She put down the cup with a shaking hand and went to him. Her heart was in her mouth.
"What have you been doing?" he said.
"I told you, father. I'm engaged to Herr—"
"How did you get to Paris?"
"By train."
"Will you answer me? What were you doing in Paris?"