She came in, somewhat breathless, with two spots of red upon her cheeks.
“I thought you wouldn’t mind if I came here to wait till you returned,” said Gerald. “And I found Bertha.”
“How funny that our thoughts should have been identical,” said Miss Ley. “It occurred to me that you might come, and so I hurried home as quickly as I could.”
“You’re quite out of breath,” said Bertha.
Miss Ley sank on a chair, exhausted. As she was eating her fish and talking to a neighbour, it suddenly dawned upon her that Bertha’s indisposition was assumed.
“Oh, what a fool I am! They’ve hoodwinked me as if I were a child.... Good heavens, what are they doing now?”
The dinner seemed interminable, but immediately afterwards she took leave of her astonished hostess and gave the cabman orders to drive furiously. She arrived, inveighing against the deceitfulness of the human race. She had never run up the stairs so quickly.
“How is your headache, Bertha?”
“Thanks, it’s much better. Gerald has driven it away.”
This time Miss Ley’s good-bye to the precocious youth was rather chilly; she was devoutly thankful that his boat sailed next morning.