They were out, as it chanced, and Valérie was alone. She received him joyously, for unhappy as she was in his absence, the mere sight of his face recalled her old spirits, and Falkenstein, in all probability, never guessed a tithe she suffered, because she had always a smile for him.
"Oh! Count Waldemar," she cried, "why have you never been to the Gardens this week? If you only knew how I miss you——"
"I have had no time," he answered, coldly.
"You could make time if you wished," said Valérie, passionately. "You are so cold, so unkind to me lately. Have I vexed you at all?"
"Vexed me, Miss L'Estrange? Certainly not."
She was silent, chilled, despite herself.
"Why do you call me Miss L'Estrange?" she said, suddenly. "You know I cannot bear it from you."
"What should I call you?"
"Valérie," she answered, softly.
He got up and walked to the hearth-rug, playing with Spit and Puppet with his foot, and for once hailed, as a relief, the entrance of Bella, in an extensive morning toilet, fresh from "shopping." She looked rapidly and angrily from him to Valérie, and attacked him at once. Seeing her cousin's vivacity told, she went in for the same stakes, with but slight success, being a young lady of the heavy artillery stamp, with no light action about her.