“How does she like it?”
“Not at all.”
“And how do you like it?”
Miss Spencer laid her face in her two hands an instant, as she had done ten minutes before.
Then, quickly, she went to get the Countess’s coffee.
I remained alone in the little parlor; I wanted to see more, to learn more. At the end of five minutes the young man whom Miss Spencer had described as the Countess’s pupil came in. He stood looking at me for a moment with parted lips. I saw he was a very rudimentary young man.
“She wants to know if you won’t come out there,” he observed at last.
“Who wants to know?”
“The Countess. That French lady.”
“She has asked you to bring me?”