Paul offered his arm.
“No, thank you,” said she.
The door was just closing, Jean was no longer there. Bettina ran across the room. Paul remained alone, much surprised, understanding nothing of what had passed.
Jean was already at the hall-door, when he heard some one call—“Monsieur Jean! Monsieur Jean!”
He stopped and turned. She was near him.
“You are going without wishing me good-by?”
“I beg your pardon, I am very tired.”
“Then you must not walk home, the weather is threatening,” she extended her hand out-of-doors, “it is raining already.”
“Come and have a cup of tea in the little drawing-room, and I will tell them to drive you home,” and turning toward one of the footmen, “tell them to send a carriage round directly.”
“No, Miss Percival, pray, the open air will revive me. I must walk, let me go.”