"How can I? If you mean send after her? No one knows where she is by this time. I called and called, but she never looked round. You might have reminded her, Sue."
"I should, if I had thought of it myself. But though she was here just now, we were talking of other things."
"What other things? Everything else is settled. The dinner-table really looks very nice," in mollified accents; "Watts has done the flowers beautifully, and Grier has condescended to have out all the plate. Well, I must go and break it to Harrison, I suppose—but if she is in a temper, she won't wait, even if I suggest it."
"I don't think I should suggest it," said Sue. She had an instinct that waiting would be of no use, and it proved to be a correct instinct.
The lower rooms were deserted when Leo hurried in; and lamps were being lit, while a faint pale moon became momentarily more clear in the dusk without. Servants were drawing down blinds and shutting shutters. Leo half expected to find the garden-door bolted, but it was not so,—and she scurried along the corridor, and prepared to mount the staircase, when her heart gave a sudden jump. There was some one in her path. Paul was on the next landing, looking from the great staircase window, with his back turned.
He was contemplating the scene without, which was certainly beautiful enough to command admiration—but Leo fancied that he was also sunk in thought. The pose of his motionless form suggested that he had not merely stopped to look out in passing, but had come to a halt at that spot and withdrawn into himself.
She put her foot on the next step and hesitated—but he did not look round. Obviously the slight noise of her entrance had fallen on deaf ears, or been held of no consequence, as were the other openings and shutting of doors in the distance,—and that being the case, there was no absolute need to intrude.
She stole back into the shadows beneath.
Finally by a circuitous route she reached her own room unseen.