Were the rooms satisfactory? Entirely so. Would madame or monsieur desire anything for their comfort? If they did they would order it later.
When the major-domo and the porter who had brought up Drexel’s suit-case were gone, and Drexel was left standing alone in the larger room with that brilliantly beautiful creature, he was swept with a desire that this marriage game they played—a game involving life and death, and far, far more, for aught he knew—were not a game at all, but a reality.
But he mastered himself. It was only a game—and he had to see the game through to the end.
“This room will be yours,” said he.
“Very well,” said she.
He stepped to the connecting door and changed the key to her side of the lock. She thanked him with a look.
“Perhaps you would like something to eat?” he suggested.
“Nothing.”
He wanted to remain and talk with her, yet the situation was such that the suggestion had to come from her. He hesitated near the door, waiting—but the invitation did not come.
“I shall put out my light,” he said, “but I shall not go to bed. If you need me, just call. Good-night.”