“I am sure only that I know my own! Tell me, what was in that note I carried, addressed to yon varlet Davidson?”
“Sealed orders!”
“And how does that affect me, Helena. Tell me—I know you love me, and you know that all the rest is small, to that; but as to that wedding part of it, Helena—what do you say?”
She hesitated for an instant. “You want me to—come—to come with honor, as you do?”
“Yes. I’ll take any risk that means with you.”
“Will you take sealed orders, too?”
“Yes.”
“Turn on the lights.”
I reached the switch, and an instant later a dozen high candle-power bulbs flooded the suite with light. With a little cry of dismay Helena sprang away, and stood at my shaving-glass, arranging her hair. Now and then she turned her face just enough to smile at me a little, her eyes dark, languid, heavy lidded, a faint shadow of blue beneath. And now and then her breast heaved, as though it were a sea late troubled by a storm gone by.