“It is bed-time,” he remarked, rising and speaking, as I thought, coldly.
We both retired. As for the whisper, frankly and honestly, I did not give it another thought.
CHAPTER XXIX.
MAY’S STORY.
Schumann.
Following Arkwright, I joined Adelaide and von Francius at the foot of the orchestra. She had sent word that she was tired. Looking at her, I thought indeed she must be very tired, so white, so sad she looked.
“Adelaide,” I expostulated, “why did you remain so long?”