Then he talked on indifferent subjects until Mrs. Hallam was heard coming along the hall, panting and talking loudly, and evidently out of humor. The elevator, which Rex said had been drawn off for repairs, was still off, and she had been obliged to walk up the stairs, and didn’t like it. Bertha had risen to her feet as soon as she heard her voice, while Rex, too, rose and stood behind her in the shadow, so his aunt did not see him as she entered the room, and, sinking into the nearest chair, said, irritably:
“Hurry and help me off with my things. I’m half dead. Whew! Isn’t that lamp smoking? How it smells here! Open another window. The lift is not running, and I had to walk up the stairs.”
“I knew it stopped earlier in the evening, but supposed it was running now. I am very sorry,” Bertha said, and Mrs. Hallam continued:
“You ought to have found out and been down there to help me up.”
“I didn’t come any too soon,” Rex thought, stepping out from the shadow, and saying, in his cheery voice, “Halloo, auntie! All tuckered out, aren’t you, with those horrible stairs! I tried them, and they took the wind out of me.”
“Oh, Rex, Rex!” Mrs. Hallam cried, throwing her arms around the tall young man, who bent over her and returned her caresses, while he explained that he did not telegraph, as he wished to surprise her, and that he had reached the hotel half an hour or so after she left it.
“Why didn’t you come at once to the Casino? There was plenty of room in our box, and you must have been so dull here.”
Rex replied: “Not at all dull, with Miss Leighton for company. I ordered my supper up here and had her join me. So you see I have made myself quite at home.”
“I see,” Mrs. Hallam said, with a tone in her voice and a shutting together of her lips which Bertha understood perfectly.
She had gathered up Mrs. Hallam’s mantle and bonnet and opera-glass and fan and gloves by this time; and, knowing she was no longer needed, she left the room just as Mrs. Haynes and Grace, who had heard Rex’s voice, entered it.