Coltfoot telephoned for his car after midnight and drove Annan’s fair guests homeward.
Annan, born with a detestation for sleep, locked up and put out the lights unwillingly.
As he passed Eris’ door on his way to his room, he halted a moment, listening.
“Are you awake, Eris?” he asked in a modulated voice.
“Yes,” she answered.
“That’s fine!” he exclaimed. “May I come in for a moment?”
“Yes, please.”
Her light was on. She was sitting up in bed. When he caught the first glimpse of the radiant face, flushed with happy excitement, he scarcely recognised the pinched and pallid girl of the park. In his astonishment he thought her the prettiest thing he remembered ever seeing; stood silent, quite overwhelmed by the unfamiliar beauty of the girl.
Entirely unconscious of admiration, she smiled enchantingly—a piquant and really charming picture in her bath-robe and bobbed hair.
“Thank you so much,” she said, “for asking Miss Blythe to see me. She pretended you wouldn’t let her come, but I knew she was joking. Miss Blythe asked me to join her own company. I simply can’t sleep for thinking of it.”