She sat up, bewildered, the ticking watch at her ear. Sunshine from the southwest, and her watch briskly ticking at half-past three!
“It can’t be!” Gabrielle said aloud, beginning heavily the business of dressing. “Why, where are they all?” she murmured, gradually fitting together in her mind the events of the past night. “Why didn’t someone——”
Flooding sunlight and cold pure air from the southwest! The day seemed turned around as, fifteen minutes later, she went slowly downstairs. Nobody anywhere—sitting room, dining room, halls, pantry; but Hedda and Margret were quietly talking over some busy chopping and peeling in the spotless kitchen, and Margret started a wood fire in the dining-room stove, and Hedda brought Gabrielle a delicious breakfast luncheon and placed it on a small table near the blaze.
Gabrielle was there alone, thoughtful over her meal, when David came cheerfully in. He looked just his pleasant self as he sat down, his dark hair a little tumbled, and his old corduroy jacket spotted about the cuffs with paint, but Gabrielle thought he gave her an unusually sharp keen look, and felt tears prick behind her eyes as she smiled in answer.
“Well,” he said, “you got some sleep!”
“Eleven hours,” said Gay.
“I’m glad. You looked all in last night. And Margret said you came down to the kitchen, late as it was, and talked things over——”
“For an hour.” Gay pushed away her table, almost untouched.
“Feel like a walk?”
“Oh, no, thank you, David.” She smiled gratefully, but he heard the sharp sigh that followed the words. “I feel—broken,” she said, with suddenly wet eyes.