She looked as if she were about to spring and bite.
"Atrocious!" she exclaimed. "I will not stay under the same roof,"—and she marched out of the door.
I made my way into the reception room. I met no one, and the room was empty, although I heard on the floor above the sound of many footsteps, apparently those of the sisters preparing for departure.
I looked around for a bell, or some means of making my presence known. The room appeared harder, barer, emptier than when I had seen it before. In a moment it was filled with all the light and beauty of the world. A door opened, and Sylvia entered.
"I saw you come," she said, advancing with outstretched hands, "and hurried down as soon as I could."
She was in her gray dress, but without shawl or head covering. Her face was filled with the most charming welcome. I hastened towards her. I did not take her hands, but opening my arms I folded her in them, and kissed her over and over again. With flushed face she pushed herself a little from me.
"Isn't this taking a great deal for granted?" she said.
"Granted!" I exclaimed, "think of what has been denied. Think of the weeks, the months"—
"We would a great deal better think somebody may come in here and see us," said Sylvia, pushing herself still farther from me.
"But didn't you expect me to rush to you the instant I heard you were a free woman? Did you suppose there was anything to be taken for granted between us?"