Suddenly, as she fitted the latch-key, her heart leaped and she knew why she had come home.
For a moment her fast pulse almost suffocated her. Was she mad to return here on the wildest chance that Jim might have come––might be inside, waiting? And what in the world made her suppose so?––for she had neither seen him nor heard from him in many days.
“I’m certainly a little crazy,” she thought as she opened the door. At the same moment her eyes fell on his overcoat and hat and stick.
Her skirt was rather tight, but her limbs were supple and her feet light, and she ran upstairs to the living room.
As he rose from an armchair she flung her arms out with a joyous little cry and wrapped them tightly around his neck, muff, reticule and all.
“You darling,” he was saying over and over in a happy but rather stupid voice, and crushing her narrow hands between his; “––you adorable child, you wonderful girl–––”
“Oh, I’m so glad, Jim! Shall we have tea?... You dear fellow! I’m so very happy that you came! Wait a moment––” she leaned wide from him and touched an electric bell. “Now you’ll have to behave properly,” she said with delightful malice.
He released her; she spoke to the maid and then went over with him to the sofa, flinging muff, stole and purse on a chair.
“Pure premonition,” she explained, stripping the gloves from her hands. “Ilse and Marya were all for the Plaza, but something sent me homeward! Isn’t it really very strange, Jim? Why, I almost had an inclination to run when I turned into our street––not even knowing why, of course–––”