She threw herself back in her chair and covered her face with her hands. But suddenly she heard steps in the adjoining room. She looked up, and ere she could recover herself saw St. Clare appearing in the door. Half demented with grief, with her weeping eyes she glanced at him.
“I hope you will pardon me if I disturb you.”
He spoke softly, for he saw that she was crying. “The servant said that you were at home. Perhaps I had better come back to-morrow.”
She rose, wiped her eyes, and gave him a friendly smile.
“Do you wish to go so soon?” she said sadly. “You do not disturb me in the least. On the contrary, I think it very nice of you that you have come. Take a seat. Is Vincent all right?”
“Very well, thank you,” he answered, in a tone from which she could gather all the friendship he felt for Vincent. “We have been to Liège and Verviers.”
“Is that the only reason then why I have not seen you before now after the soirée?”
He looked at her for a moment.
“Yes,” he answered, “the only reason.”
“You were not angry?”