Daphne
Wing went up to it, holding in one hand the milk-can and in the other a
short knife, with which she had evidently been opening oysters. Placing
the knife on the table, she turned round to Gyp. Her face was deep
pink, and so was her neck, which ran V-shaped down into the folds of her
kimono. Her eyes, round as saucers, met Gyp's, fell, met them again. She
said:
"Oh, Mrs. Fiorsen, I am glad! I really am. I wanted you so much to see
my room--do you like it? How DID you know where I was?" She looked down
and added: "I think I'd better tell you. Mr. Fiorsen came here, and,
since then, I've seen him at Count Rosek's--and--and--"
"Yes; but don't trouble to tell me, please."
Daphne Wing hurried on.
"Of course, I'm quite mistress of myself now." Then, all at once, the
uneasy woman-of-the-world mask dropped from her face and she seized
Gyp's hand. "Oh, Mrs. Fiorsen, I shall never be like you!"
With a little shiver, Gyp said:
"I hope not." Her pride rushed up in her. How could she ask this girl
anything? She choked back that feeling, and said stonily: "Do you
remember my baby? No, of course; you never saw her. HE and Count Rosek
have just taken her away from me."
Daphne Wing convulsively squeezed the hand of which she had possessed
herself.
"Oh, what a wicked thing! When?"
"Yesterday afternoon."
"Oh, I AM glad I haven't seen him since! Oh, I DO think that was wicked!
Aren't you dreadfully distressed?" The least of smiles played on Gyp's
mouth.
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