Sick at heart, she lifted her throbbing head and kissed his name once more where she had written it on the envelope. Then she placed it on the desk, and lay down on the bed to wait for Silvette before ringing for the maid who attended them; and after a little while she fell asleep.
CHAPTER XII
NUNC AUT NUNQUAM
Warm weather continued; no flight occurred. The men thrashed about with the dogs after grouse and a few native woodcock bred in the willows along the river, or rode, motored, and played cards. One or two had to give up, and return to the city.
Colonel Curmew was at his best on these gay occasions—gallant, jocose, busy, everybody's friend, including Jack Rivett's, who quietly began to hate him.
In the midst of the general tension and expectancy concerning the long-awaited flight, Christine one morning entered her father's study and found the author of her being conferring with Mr. Dineen.
"This won't do, Christine," he said. "I'm busy."
"No, it won't do," she admitted, looking so significantly at Mr. Dineen that the jolly, big Irishman laughed.
"You want me to go out!" he said, shaking an enormous forefinger at her.
"Please—for a few minutes."