"Your voice sounds——"
"Why not, since I'm suffering a little?"
The creaking sound died away.
At the first glimmer of dawn she was up. An hour later she entered David's bedroom, dressed, hatted, and gloved. Her skin appeared translucent. Her hands, drawing her cloak round her shivering body, seemed almost too weak for that task.
"Why, where are you going?"
"To town. It seems that Parr has fallen ill."
She leaned over him quickly, thinking of all the kisses of betrayal that had ever been bestowed upon the unaware. She went out leaving him dumfounded by her appearance of feverish eagerness, energy, and illness.
On the ride to New York she lay back in the corner of the limousine, her face burning, her lips pressed together. "He thinks I don't love him, it seems!" That was the tender menace she hurled ahead of her, as the car carried her swiftly—yet how slowly!—toward his rooms.
She remembered Anna Zanidov.
"The infallible clairvoyant! All that solemn nonsense! Ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha!"