They were really very kind people, these Wachners!
Looking round the funny little dining-room, Sylvia could not help remembering how uncomfortable she had felt when sitting there alone the day before. It was hard now to believe that she should have had that queer, eerie feeling of discomfort and disquietude in such a commonplace, cheerful room. She told herself that there probably had been some little creature hidden there—some shy, wild thing, which maybe had crept in out of the wood.
"And now I will go and make the tea," said Madame Wachner pleasantly, and Sylvia gaily insisted on accompanying her hostess into the kitchen.
"We shall 'ave a nicer tea than that first time we made tea 'ere together," said Madame Wachner jovially.
The young Englishwoman shook her head, smiling.
"I had a very good time that afternoon!" she cried. "And I shall always feel grateful for your kindness to me and to poor Anna, Madame Wachner. I do so often wonder what Anna is doing with herself, and where she is staying in Paris." She looked wistfully at her companion.
Madame Wachner was in the act of pouring the boiling water into her china teapot.
"Ah, well," she said, bending over it, "we shall never know that. Your friend was a strange person, what I call a solitaire. She did not like gambling when there were people whom she knew in the Baccarat Room with her. As to what she is doing now—" she shrugged her shoulders, expressively.
"You know she telegraphed for her luggage yesterday?" said Sylvia slowly.
"In that case—if it has had time to arrive—Madame Wolsky is probably on her way to Aix, perhaps even to Monte Carlo. She did not seem to mind whether it was hot or cold if she could get what she wanted—that is, Play—"