“Yes.”
“You are forgetting nothing?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Certainly.”
“It is at the Hotel de Provence, is it not, that you will wait for me at midday?”
He nodded.
“Till to-morrow then!” said Emma in a last caress; and she watched him go.
He did not turn round. She ran after him, and, leaning over the water’s edge between the bulrushes—
“To-morrow!” she cried.