oak floor. Mr. Carruthers stood quite still, and put his light back on the table. His face was cynical and rather amused. I can’t say what irritation I felt, and immediately decided to leave on the morrow—but where to, Fate, or the Devil, could only know! When I got to my room a lump came in my throat. Véronique had gone to bed, tired out with her day’s packing. I suddenly felt utterly alone, all the exaltation gone. For the moment I hated the two[54] downstairs. I felt the situation equivocal, and untenable, and it had amused me so much an hour ago. [54] It is stupid and silly, and makes one’s nose red, but I felt like crying a little before I got into bed. [55] [55] Branches, Branches Saturday afternoon, Nov. 5th. This morning I woke with a headache, to see the rain beating against my windows, and mist and fog—a fitting day for the fifth of November. I would not go down to breakfast. Véronique brought me mine to my sitting-room fire, and, with Spartan determination, I packed steadily all the morning. This This About twelve a note came up from Lord Robert; I paste it in: “Dear Miss Travers,—Why are you hiding? Was I a bore last night? Do forgive me and come down. Has Christopher locked you in your room? I will murder the brute if he has! Dear Miss Travers “Yours very sincerely, “Robert Vavasour.”
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