"Oh, Clive—if you only could have seen them—the little flower-like faces and pleading arms around—my—neck—warm—Oh, sweet!—sweet against my breast—"
CHAPTER XXV
WINIFRED had grown stout, which, on a slim, small-boned woman is quickly apparent; and, to Clive, her sleepy, uncertain grey eyes seemed even nearer together than he remembered them.
She was seated in the yellow and white living-room of her apartment at the Regina, still holding the card he had sent up; and she made no movement to rise when her maid announced him and ushered him in, or to greet him at all except with a slight nod and a slighter gesture indicating a chair across the room.
He said: "I did not know until this morning that you were in this country."
"Was it necessary to inform you?"
"No, not necessary," he said, "unless you have come to some definite decision concerning our future relations."
Her eyes seemed to grow sleepier and nearer together than ever.