A knock at the door, which she had already heard once or twice, now sounded louder. She let her arms fall, glanced round the room, grasped the letter hidden in her bosom, and passed her hands over her hair and brow and eyes and cheeks. "Come in!"
"I was afraid of disturbing you," said Reinhold, standing in the open doorway.
"Oh, come in and shut the door."
It was the Ferdinanda of last night, with the half-careless, half-sullen, impenetrable manner, and the deep, monotonous, tired voice.
Reinhold did as he was desired. She replaced the modelling tool, which she had caught up at random, on the little table, and gave him her hand.
"I have been waiting a long time for you."
"I should have been here sooner," answered Reinhold, "but a handsome young fellow next door, whom I seemed to disturb in the act of dressing----"
"Antonio, an Italian--Herr Anders' assistant."
"He either could not or would not give me any information. So I have been through the yards and the machinery department in search of your father, and--did you not hear the noise?"
"No."