“We will go to my sitting-room, which Thompson insists upon calling the ‘budwar,’ and Regina the salotino,” she whispered gaily.
She led the way up the curved, stone, stairway. He followed submissively, an absent eye upon the tapestries that covered the stone walls. They entered the sitting-room at the top of the stairs and Anne closed the door firmly.
“Enfin seuls!” she exclaimed sinking with a comic little air into a chair before the fire. Throwing aside his hat and coat, Alexis glowered somberly down upon her.
“It is a week since we parted, and I’ve been starving for the sight of you,” he cried with a catch in his voice. “Why didn’t you let me know that you had returned?”
His agitated face reproached her. She laughed rather nervously.
“I only arrived yesterday afternoon, impatient one. Besides, I had received your telegram and knew that everything was all right. I was going to call you up to-morrow morning. But now I shan’t have to, shall I?” She drew herself up briskly. “Come, don’t stand there glowering at me. Sit down, tell me your news.”
Wounded at her sudden change of tone, Alexis sank upon a stool at her feet. Putting his arms about his knees, he stared gloomily into the flames. “What do you want to know?” he inquired sullenly.
Anne repressed an impatient sigh.
“Tell me about Claire,” she said quietly. “Will she be able to leave the hospital soon?”
“She seems to be perfectly all right, now, and expects to return home in a few days,” he replied.