"William!" she said, with a little, glad sob, under her breath—"William!"
He himself could not speak. He stood there gazing at her, his lips moving without sound. It seemed to him that she turned her head a moment, as though to look for some one beside him—with an exquisite tremor of the mouth.
"Isn't it strange?" she said, in the same guarded voice. "I had a dream once—a valley—and mountains—and an inn. You sat here—just like this—and—"
She put up her hands to her eyes a moment, shivered, and withdrew them. From her expression she seemed to be waiting for him to speak. He moved and stood beside her.
"Where can we talk?" he said, with difficulty. She shook her head vaguely, looking round her with that slight frown, complaining and yet sweet, which was like a touch of fire on memory.
The waitress came back into the room.
"It is odd to have met you here!" said Kitty, in a laughing voice. "Let us go into the salon de lecture. The maids want to clear away. Please bring your newspaper."
Fräulein Anna looked at them with a momentary curiosity, and went on with her work. They passed into the passage-way outside, which was full of smokers overflowing from the crowded room beyond, where the humbler frequenters of the inn ate and drank.
Kitty glanced round her in bewilderment. "The salon de lecture will be full, too. Where shall we go?" she said, looking up.
Ashe's hand clinched as it hung beside him. The old gesture—and the drawn, emaciated face—they pierced the heart.