Her lips quivered, causing Morris to fear that this period of calmness might not be long sustained.
"Well, I'll give you two days," he agreed. "But it cannot possibly be allowed to continue longer than that. That's forty-eight hours too long."
"Is that a promise?"
"Yes, yes. Now stand aside from the door, there's a good girl."
As she obeyed silently, he stepped out into the passage. "Go to bed, ma chérie," he advised. "Have a good night. You'll feel better in the morning."
Impatiently she signed to him to be gone, then flung herself into her favourite chair, rested her elbows on one of its arms, and supported her chin on her hands. Thus she sat motionless, gazing fixedly into vacancy with hard, dry eyes, forgetful or regardless of Morris's presence in the open doorway.
He lingered a few moments, looking with mingled feelings at her now expressionless but perfect-featured face and graceful form. But she neither spoke nor glanced in his direction, and very soon the street door had closed behind him with a final bang.