"
The word "home" hurt him, and he only answered:
"Very well, Gyp; when?"
"The house is quite ready. I think I had better go to-morrow. He's still
at Rosek's. I won't let him know. Two or three days there by myself
first would be better for settling baby in."
"Very well; I'll take you up."
He made no effort to ascertain her feelings toward Fiorsen. He knew too
well.
They travelled next day, reaching London at half-past two. Betty had
gone up in the early morning to prepare the way. The dogs had been
with Aunt Rosamund all this time. Gyp missed their greeting; but the
installation of Betty and the baby in the spare room that was now to be
the nursery, absorbed all her first energies. Light was just beginning
to fail when, still in her fur, she took a key of the music-room and
crossed the garden, to see how all had fared during her ten weeks'
absence. What a wintry garden! How different from that languorous, warm,
moonlit night when Daphne Wing had come dancing out of the shadow of the
dark trees. How bare and sharp the boughs against the grey, darkening
sky--and not a song of any bird, not a flower! She glanced back at the
house. Cold and white it looked, but there were lights in her room and
in the nursery, and someone just drawing the curtains. Now that the
leaves were off, one could see the other houses of the road, each
different in shape and colour, as is the habit of London houses.
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