"Then you have only thought of me twice to-day," said Yvonne, standing up and crossing to a Chesterfield. She seated herself, resting her head upon a black cushion and posing deliberately with the confidence of a pretty woman.
"That is a challenge," replied Paul, "and I accept it."
He followed her, but she covered her face with her hands tauntingly, and only resigned her lips after a long struggle. Then they sat silently, very close together, the golden head leaning against the dark one, and ere long Paul's restless mind was at work again.
"Don is on leave, Yvonne," he said. "Isn't that fine?"
"Oh, yes," replied Yvonne, stifling a sigh. "He called yesterday."
"He called!" cried Paul, sitting upright excitedly. "You did not tell me."
"How could I tell you, Paul? I have not seen you alone until now. Don did not know you were away. A letter came from him two days ago——"
"I know. That was how I learned of his being home."
"He said he would come this afternoon. Oh—perhaps here he is."
Yvonne smoothed her skirt and moved to a discreet distance from Paul as a parlourmaid came in. Paul leapt up, eagerly.