When Anthony came upstairs he heard his name called through the door, and went in to Isabel’s room to find her sitting up in bed in the gloom of the summer night; the party below had broken up, and all was quiet except for the far-off shouts and hoots of cheerful laughter from the dispersing groups down among the narrow streets.
“Well?” she said, as he came in and stood in the doorway.
“It is just the story of the prize,” he said, “and it seems that Hubert had the taking of it.”
There was silence a moment. Anthony could see her face, a motionless pale outline, and her arms clasped round her knees as she sat up in bed.
“Hubert?” she asked in an even voice.
“Yes, Hubert.”
There was silence a moment.
“Well?” she said again.
“He is safe,” said Anthony, “and fought gallantly. I will tell you more to-morrow.”
“Ah!” said Isabel softly; and then lay down again.