He stared towards the sea, over it. The Mediterranean slept profoundly; and then it seemed to him that the Mediterranean was not asleep, only pretending; it was a prowling beast, ever prowling about the shores of Europe and Africa....
“I’d much rather go to Africa now than to bed,” she said suddenly.
A car stopped outside the gates; they saw its lights, and they heard voices.
“Good-night, Ivor,” Virginia said—rather severely—and was gone.
Thus it was on the first night.
CHAPTER VIII
1
George Tarlyon entered his wife’s bedroom fairly early the next morning. There was a door connecting their rooms, but he came in by the ordinary door; for when they had entered into occupation of the villa the servants had somehow forgotten to unbolt the door between their master’s and mistress’s rooms, and no one had thought of doing it since. Lord Tarlyon was no slacker, and could do with as little sleep as any man; for no matter at what hour he went to bed, he was generally up and about by ten: as now, entering his wife’s bedroom, gently, as fresh and clear of eye as though Casino smoke was balm to his health. Virginia lay very still, her golden head sideways and deep in the hollow of her pillow, and he was about to withdraw when she opened her eyes. She looked tired.
“I wasn’t asleep,” she said. And she stared at him as he smiled at her from the foot of the bed; and through the half-open door she heard the noisy filling of a bath. She wondered if it was Ivor’s or Hugo’s. Johnny believed in daylight sleeping.
“Will you draw the blinds, please, George?” she asked him.