She had arrived only a few hours ago, after two days spent at Del Monte,
and was waiting for Nick.
There had been a note sent up the day before, and she had not been in the
hotel twenty minutes when he had telephoned. It had been good to hear his
voice, so good that Angela had felt obliged to stiffen her resolution.
Would she let him call? he asked; and she said: "Yes, come before dinner."
Her impulse was to say, "Dine with me," but she would not. Instead, she
added, "I dine at eight." It was now after seven, and she had dressed to
be ready for Nick. He might arrive at any minute. Angela's heart was
beating quickly--but perhaps it was the glory of the sunset that made her
blood run fast. She was listening for the bell of the telephone, yet when
the sharp sound came it went through her nerves with the thrill of the
unexpected.
"A gentleman, Mr. Hilliard, has called," announced the small impersonal
voice at the other end of the wire.
"Ask him to come up," Angela answered, feeling virtuously firm in her
resolve that really had not weakened once in the last five days!
The pretty white room was full of rose-coloured twilight, so pink, it
seemed, that if you closed your hand tightly you might find a little ball
of crushed rose-petals there when you opened it.
Pages:
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262