"
"You will? Sweet Angela! And when you hear from me, and know where I
am, you will write me a long, long letter and tell me how he looked,
and what he said, and whether he seemed sorry or indifferent, or
angry, or ashamed--or--"
Before she could finish the sentence the studio door was thrown
open, and the servant announced, "Monsieur le Marquis Fontenelle!"
XII.
A moment's flashing glance of half-amused dismay at Angela, and the
Comtesse Sylvie had vanished. Passing quickly behind one of the
several tall tapestry screens that adorned the studio, she slipped
away through a little private door at which Angela's "models"
presented themselves, a door which led into the garden and then into
the Bois, and making straight for her carriage which was in waiting
round the corner, she sprang into it and was rapidly driven away.
Meanwhile, Angela Sovrani, rather bewildered by her friend's swift
departure, was left alone to face the Marquis, who entered almost on
the heels of the servant who announced him, and in one swift survey
of the studio saw that the object of his search was not there.
Concealing his disappointment, however, under an admirable show of
elegant indifference, he advanced towards Angela and saluted her
with a courtly old-world grace that very well became his handsome
face and figure.
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