"I have left it on my dressing-table," she thought, moving away. "I will have a cup of tea in my room this evening, and let guardy and Madame Blanche dine together. I wish it were time to start. I abominably hate waiting."
Mollie found her watch on the table, and was rather surprised to see it past eight.
"I had no idea it was so late," she said to herself. "I shall leave here at half past nine. There is nothing like keeping tryst in season."
She rang for Lucy, ordered a little supper in her room, and then dismissed the maid.
"I shan't want you again to-night, Lucy," she said. "You can go out, if you like, and see your mother."
Lucy tripped away, right well pleased, and Mollie dawdled the time over her supper and a book.
Half past nine came very soon.
"Time to get ready," thought Mollie, starting up. "Dear, dear! it's highly romantic and highly sensational, this nocturnal appointment with a masked man, and that man one's mysterious husband. I can't say much for the place; there's precious little romance around the Maison Dorée. Does it still rain, I wonder?"
She opened the blind and looked out. Yes, it still rained; it still blew in long, shuddering gusts; the low-lying sky was inky black; athwart the darkness flashed the murky street lamps.
Mollie dropped the curtain, with a little shiver.