“Yes. I could see something was the matter with Elise. I am sorry either of you was worried. I meant to get in before anybody noticed. I’m all right, thanks.”
There she stood, quite close to him,—real. In her party frock and her fragile high-heeled slippers, immaculate and self-possessed. Even her hair was as shining and groomed as last night, but with a new touch added: a narrow violet band was tied around her head, back of her ears, holding the curls in place. It was that ribbon with its flat little bow at the side of her head, which infuriated Lewis.
“Where did you sleep last night?”
Elise, listening from the dining-room, where after all it was her place to be ready to serve Miss Farwell her breakfast when she came in for it, was amazed at the harshness of the tone putting the question. Doctor Pryne had been sharp and quick with herself—but not harsh like this. This was downright rude—and to Miss Farwell! But Miss Farwell was equal to him. She was equal to any one. She was every bit as real a lady as was Mrs. Farwell herself, in spite of being so different. Elise knew. She had lived in the house with Miss Farwell for three years now.
Petra said, “Somehow I don’t think that you have a right to ask, Doctor Pryne. Not like that exactly.”
“I have. I have been in hell. Scared out of my wits. I thought you—I didn’t know what had happened to you. You’ve got to tell me where you were, Petra,—where you slept.”
Then Lewis saw that although Petra was very erect in the flooding sunlight, with brushed hair, and coolly half-smiling lips, her face was haggard beyond belief. Austerely haggard.
“Petra—!” he urged again—almost gently now—then stopped. “My dear, have you had breakfast?” But she had brushed her hair, tied a ribbon about it in an infinitely enchanting way,—so why not breakfast too? Why did he worry about so trivial a matter in any case!
“Yes. We—I had breakfast. Hours ago.” But she looked down, away from Lewis’ look, very quickly as she changed the “we” to “I.” Now that she was looking down, Lewis could see how, over night, her face had thinned. He could almost see the bones of her cheek through the transparent flesh.
She looked up as if to ward off his discernment. “Doctor Pryne! Could you get along at the office without me to-day? I am—I think I am—well, perhaps too tired.”