"Yes."
"All right," he said briefly.
CHAPTER XI
THE door of the apartment stood ajar and he walked in. Athalie, still in her evening gown, rose from the sofa before the fire, dropping the white Angora, Hafiz, from her lap.
"It's so good of you, Clive," she said, offering her hand.
"It's good of you, Athalie, to let me come."
"Let you!" There was a smile on her sensitive lips, scarcely perceptible.
He dropped coat, hat, and walking stick across a chair; she seated herself on the sofa, and he came over and found a place for himself beside her.