The boy brought the answer back that the American gentleman was sleeping—they did not like to wake him.
"He must be very tired," the girl said.
Sinclair did not appear in the dining-room that evening. His dinner was served to him in his room, and Cleo Ballard saw nothing of him till the following day.
"I am so glad you have come, dear," she told him; "the summer was going by so quickly, and I was afraid you had forgotten your promise."
"Did I make any promise," he asked, indifferently.
"Why, of course, Arthur;" she looked hurt.
"Well, I forgot, Cleo. One can't remember all these little things, you know."
"Then what made you come?" she asked, sharply, stung by his indifference.
"Not because of any promise, my dear," he said. "Simply because I was tired," and then as he saw her hurt face he added, with forced gentleness: "I wanted to see you—that was the chief reason, of course."