It was a danger signal. She rose. "I have a feeling that you are neglecting somebody. You haven't danced yet with Miss Chesley."
"Oh, Eve's all right," easily; "sit down."
But she would not. She sent him from her. His place was by Eve's side. He was going to marry Eve.
It was late that night when Marie-Louise came into Anne's room. "Are you asleep?" she asked, with the door at a crack.
"No."
"Will you mind—if I talk?"
"No."
Anne was in front of her open fire, writing to Uncle Rod. The fire was another of the luxuries in which she revelled. It was such a wonder of a fireplace, with its twinkling brasses, and its purring logs. She remembered the little round stove in her room at Bower's.
Marie-Louise had come to talk of Geoffrey Fox.