"She's gone to bed."
"Gone to bed, and left you here by yourself!" Then a thought assailed him: "I say," he asked himself, "is she—is she staying behind to give me a talking-to about anything? What've I done now?"
The question made him antagonistic, and he looked at her keenly.
"Are you—are you staying the night?" he asked; "because, if so, I'll just take my things out of the dressing-room into our room, unless you have done it?"
She lifted her hands. "Oh, my dear boy, I shouldn't dream of putting you so about! It is only that I stayed to tell you a little bit of news which Marie seemed a trifle reluctant to tell you."
She put her head on one side and looked at him smilingly. There was no sign upon her face to tell him how anxious her heart was, nor how she had offered up a prayer as his latchkey clicked in the lock: "Oh, Lord, don't let him be angry; let him be very kind to Marie, for Christ's sake! Amen."
"If there's anything Marie can't tell me herself—"
In her most propitiatory voice she said, smiling up at the young man, "Can't you guess? I expect you do know, don't you, though Marie thinks you don't?"
Osborn sat down.
"I can't possibly guess. Is it a puzzle, at this time of night?"