Each of these bright frail, growing things had life and
individuality like herself!
The sound of footsteps on the gravel made her turn. Rosek was coming
from the drawing-room window. Rather startled, Gyp looked at him over
her shoulder. What had brought him at eleven o'clock in the morning? He
came up to her, bowed, and said:
"I came to see Gustav. He's not up yet, it seems. I thought I would
speak to you first. Can we talk?"
Hesitating just a second, Gyp drew off her gardening-gloves:
"Of course! Here? Or in the drawing-room?"
Rosek answered:
"In the drawing-room, please."
A faint tremor passed through her, but she led the way, and seated
herself where she could see Betty and the baby. Rosek stood looking down
at her; his stillness, the sweetish gravity of his well-cut lips, his
spotless dandyism stirred in Gyp a kind of unwilling admiration.
"What is it?" she said.
"Bad business, I'm afraid. Something must be done at once. I have
been trying to arrange things, but they will not wait. They are even
threatening to sell up this house."
With a sense of outrage, Gyp cried:
"Nearly everything here is mine."
Rosek shook his head.
"The lease is in his name--you are his wife. They can do it, I assure
you." A sort of shadow passed over his face, and he added: "I cannot
help him any more--just now."
Gyp shook her head quickly.
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