Now he was almost
level with her face--almost--and his was raised eagerly in
expectation. Was he dreaming, or did she whisper something? The sound
was so soft he was not quite sure. He stretched out his arms to her in
the darkness, pulling himself by the ivy nearer still. And this time
there was no mistake.
"Come, Paul," she said. "I have some words to say to you."
And round to the little gate Paul flew.
CHAPTER III
Paul was never quite sure of what happened that evening--everything
was so wonderful, so unusual, so unlike his ordinary life. The gate
was unlocked he found when he got there, but no one appeared to be
inside, and he bounded up the steps and on to the terrace. Silence and
darkness--was she fooling him then? No, there she was by one of the
windows; he could dimly see her outline as she passed into the room
beyond, through some heavy curtains. That was why no light came
through to the terrace. He followed, dropping them after him also, and
then he found himself in a room as unlike a hotel as he could
imagine. It may have had the usual brocade walls and gilt chairs of
the "best suite," but its aspect was so transformed by her subtle
taste and presence, it seemed to him unique, and there were masses of
flowers--roses, big white ones--tuberoses--lilies of the valley,
gardenias, late violets.
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