They walked slowly into the house together. Gray lay in the corner of an upholstered lounge beside a lighted lamp, a book open on his knees, his cheek resting on his hand.
At the sound of their approach he looked up quickly, and his face brightened.
"I thought I wouldn't read any further," he said frankly. "We have enjoyed so much reading it together. Do you mind going on with it to the end?"
The Countess laughed and a pretty color rose in her cheeks.
"Do you think," she said, "that I expect to spend the remainder of my days reading romances with you?"
And, as Warner turned and mounted the stairs:
"Besides," she added, "there is really nothing more to read in that silly novel."
"Why not?" he inquired, his face expressing candid disappointment.
"Because they have already fallen in love," she explained carelessly. "And the end of such a proceeding is always obvious, Mr. Gray."
She glanced up at the stairs. Warner had disappeared.