There was no reason
any longer for staying away. Sternly she kept her eyes from the vacant
place opposite. Yet somehow she could not persuade herself that he was
really gone. More than once she caught herself watching the door, half
expecting to see him stroll in with apologies for tardiness and take his
empty chair. When again the orchestra drifted suddenly into the waltz to
which they had danced, she rose abruptly and left the room.
Well, she would go herself in the morning. She would settle everything
and pack her things at once. She went to the desk to ask for the check.
But there was nothing for her. No, the clerk assured her after much
fumbling, Mr. Blair hadn't left anything, either in her box or his own.
But, - the man stole a covert glance at her downcast face, - he was
still holding his rooms. Probably he meant to attend to it when he
returned.
That he might not see the wild joy that leaped to her eyes, Miss
Hastings turned with startling suddenness and fled upstairs. Safe in her
own room she flung herself with tears and laughter on the bed. So that
was the hand he was playing, was it? - the dear, wicked, unmanageable - !
Of course he would have to be punished, - well punished! but - she
laughed aloud for pure joy - the world was a radiant place once more,
and nothing of any sort really mattered, because he was coming back.
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