“Ask a theatre lady if she’s afraid of drafts!” Hilda laughed. “But perhaps, as I’m so warm—give me your handkerchief. There, just in front.” He slipped the corners carefully under her shoulder-straps. “There, that will do. It looks like a bib.” She pushed his hand away quickly and stood looking out into the deserted square. “Isn’t London a tomb on Sunday night?”
Alexander caught the agitation in her voice. He stood a little behind her, and tried to steady himself as he said: “It’s soft and misty. See how white the stars are.”
For a long time neither Hilda nor Bartley spoke. They stood close together, looking out into the wan, watery sky, breathing always more quickly and lightly, and it seemed as if all the clocks in the world had stopped. Suddenly he moved the clenched hand he held behind him and dropped it violently at his side. He felt a tremor run through the slender yellow figure in front of him.
She caught his handkerchief from her throat and thrust it at him without turning round. “Here, take it. You must go now, Bartley. Good-night.”
Bartley leaned over her shoulder, without touching her, and whispered in her ear: “You are giving me a chance?”
“Yes. Take it and go. This isn’t fair, you know. Good-night.”
Alexander unclenched the two hands at his sides. With one he threw down the window and with the other—still standing behind her—he drew her back against him.
She uttered a little cry, threw her arms over her head, and drew his face down to hers. “Are you going to let me love you a little, Bartley?” she whispered.
CHAPTER V
It was the afternoon of the day before Christmas. Mrs. Alexander had been driving about all the morning, leaving presents at the houses of her friends. She lunched alone, and as she rose from the table she spoke to the butler: “Thomas, I am going down to the kitchen now to see Norah. In half an hour you are to bring the greens up from the cellar and put them in the library. Mr. Alexander will be home at three to hang them himself. Don’t forget the stepladder, and plenty of tacks and string. You may bring the azaleas upstairs. Take the white one to Mr. Alexander’s study. Put the two pink ones in this room, and the red one in the drawing-room.”