that I should say nothing of my having
called on you to-day? It is already a promise."
He turned round and regarded her.
"Precisely so," he said. "You did promise; it was kind of you; and for
myself, you may rely on my discretion. Your calling on me--what you
repeated to me--all that is obliterated: you understand?"
Madame Potecki understood that very well: but she could not quite make
out why he should have come to her this evening, apparently with no
object beyond that of reminding her of her promise to say nothing of her
visit to Lisle Street.
He lifted his hat from an adjacent chair.
"Now I will leave you to finish your dinner in quiet. You forgive me for
interrupting you, do you not? And you will remember, I am sure, not to
mention to any one about your having called on me to-day? As for me, it
is all wiped out: I know nothing. Adieu, and thanks."
He shook hands with her in a very friendly manner, and then left, saying
he could open the outer door for himself.
He got home in time for dinner: he and Natalie dined together, and he
was particularly kind to her; he talked in Magyar, which was his custom
when he wished to be friendly and affectionate; he made no reference to
George Brand whatsoever.
"Natalie," said he, casually, "it was not fair that you were deprived of
a holiday this year. You know the reason--there were too many important
things going forward. But it is not yet too late. You must think about
it--think where you would like to go for two or three weeks."
She did not answer. It was on that morning that she had placed her
written offer in her lover's hands; so far there had been no reply from
him.
"And Madame Potecki," her father continued; "she is not very rich; she
has but little change. Why not take her with you instead of Anneli?"
"I should like to take her away for a time," said the girl, in a low
voice. "She lives a monotonous life; but she has always her pupils."
"Some arrangement could be made with them, surely," her father said,
lightly; and then he added, "Paris is always the safest place to go to
when one is in doubt. There you are independent of the weather; there
are so many things to see and to do if it rains. Will you think of it,
Natalushka?"
"Yes, papa," she said, though she felt rather guilty. But she was so
grateful to have her father talk to her in this friendly way again,
after the days of estrangement that had passed, that she could not but
pretend to f
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