“This is Claire Petrovskey. I have come to tell you that Alexis is very ill, and to ask if you will come to him at once. He wants you.” The voice faltered. Then as Anne continued to look down at her in a daze, continued harshly, “Oh, don’t you understand? Alexis is ill and he needs you!”
She shook Anne by the arm.
A sudden light came into Anne’s clouded eyes. A spasm of fear gripped her. She threw an arm about the girl’s shoulders and hurried her towards the motor.
“Of course I will come,” she cried unevenly. “Here, get into the car. Where to?”
She pushed the girl into the limousine and paused a moment beside Vittorio to collect herself.
“I’m so sorry, Vittorio,” she said hurriedly. “But you see I cannot possibly go with you to-night. A—a friend of mine is very ill and I must go to him at once. I’m sure you understand. I hate to drop you this way, but you’ll take the taxi? Won’t you? And go without me?”
A quiver passed over the Marchese’s face. He bowed rather stiffly.
“Of course, Anne. You must do what is right. But it will be a great disappointment to us all.” He hesitated. “Shall I see you again soon?”
Compunction seized her.
“Come to tea with me to-morrow,” she said with renewed composure. “I wish I could explain all this to you now, but I simply haven’t the time.”