She looked at him once more, reluctant. Then, in the clearer light of the garden, the likeness of the face to one she already knew struck her with amazement; she turned and went off, muttering.
David knocked at the door; there was a movement within, and it was cautiously opened.
'Monsieur est sorti.—You!'
The brother and sister were face to face.
David closed the door behind him, and Louie retreated slowly, her hands behind her, her tall figure drawing itself up, her face setting into a frowning scorn.
'You!—what are you here for? We have done with each other!'
For answer David went up to a stove which was feebly burning in the damp, cheerless place, put down his hat and stick, and bent over it, stretching out his hands to the warmth. A chair was beside it, and on the chair some scattered bits of silk and velvet, out of which Louie was apparently fashioning a hat.
She stood still, observing him. She was in a loose dress of some silky Oriental material, and on her black hair she wore a red close-fitting cap with a fringe of golden coins dropping lightly and richly round her superb head and face.
'What is the matter with you?' she asked him grimly, after a minute's silence.' She has left you—that's plain!'
The young man involuntarily threw back his head as though he had been struck, and a vivid colour rushed into his cheek. But he answered quickly: