"But you will promise me, Zdena, won't you?" the boy persists.
"It depends upon whom I marry," Zdena replies, with dignity. "The bridegroom will have a word to say upon the subject." As she speaks, her eyes encounter Harry's; she drops them instantly, her cheeks flush, and she pauses in confusion.
As she takes her place at table, she finds a letter beside her plate, post-marked Bayreuth, and sealed with a huge coat-of-arms. Evidently startled, she slips it into her pocket unopened.
"From whom?" asks Heda, whose curiosity is always on the alert.
"From--from Bayreuth."
"From Aunt Rosa?"
Zdena makes no reply.
"From Wenkendorf?" Harry asks, crossly.
The blood rushes to her cheeks. "Yes," she murmurs.
"How interesting!" Heda exclaims. "I really should like to hear his views as to the musical mysteries in Bayreuth. Read the letter aloud to us."