“I think you would do well,” answered Erminie. “But now, after your bath and change of clothing, you will require something. What shall it be? A glass of mulled wine, a cup of coffee and sandwiches?”
“A cup of tea and a round of toast, if you please, my dear. I couldn’t go anything heavier than that. Afterwards we will have such a talk! You have no idea how much I have got to tell you, Erminie.”
“Then you shall have your bath immediately, after which you shall slip on a dressing gown and come to my bed-room. I will order your tea served there, where we can talk at ease.”
“You angel!—There! I don’t want to say anything sentimental or sickening, but you are an angel, if I know anything about the cloudy creatures, which perhaps I don’t. A mere mortal might have put me off with my own room, or any other one in this big house; but you take me to yours; consequently you are an angel!”
“Nonsense, Elfie.”
“Oh, yes, I dare say it is nonsense—nothing more likely. Whenever I speak from my heart I am apt to talk nonsense, I believe.”
And then, as Catherine was waiting to attend her, Elfie arose, gave her friend a rousing kiss and left the library.
An hour later than this, at about eleven o’clock in the night, Elfie, thoroughly refreshed with her warm bath and fresh clothing, and wrapped in a white merino dressing gown, and with her feet thrust into white fur slippers, sat in an easy chair before the bright little wood-fire in Erminie’s bed-room.
Erminie sat opposite to her, and between them stood a stand with a little tête-à-tête silver and porcelain tea service.
And while she took her tea, which Erminie shared for sociability sake, Elfie related her adventures among the guerrillas.