Mr. Fior--everybody does."
Conscious of her father's face, Gyp murmured:
"It's a lovely name. Won't you have another? These are apricot."
"They're perfect. You know, my first dress is going to be all
orange-blossom; Mr. Fiorsen suggested that. But I expect he told you.
Perhaps you suggested it really; did you?" Gyp shook her head. "Count
Rosek says the world is waiting for me--" She paused with a sugar-plum
halfway to her lips, and added doubtfully: "Do you think that's true?"
Gyp answered with a soft: "I hope so."
"He says I'm something new. It would be nice to think that. He has great
taste; so has Mr. Fiorsen, hasn't he?"
Conscious of the compression in the lips behind the smoke of her
father's cigar, and with a sudden longing to get up and walk away, Gyp
nodded.
The little dancer placed the sweet in her mouth, and said complacently:
"Of course he has; because he married you."
Then, seeming to grow conscious of Winton's eyes fixed so intently on
her, she became confused, swallowed hastily, and said:
"Oh, isn't it lovely here--like the country! I'm afraid I must go; it's
my practice-time. It's so important for me not to miss any now, isn't
it?" And she rose.
Winton got up, too. Gyp saw the girl's eyes, lighting on his rigid
hand, grow round and rounder; and from her, walking past the side of the
house, the careful voice floated back:
"Oh, I do hope--" But what, could not be heard.
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