agreeable
impression upon her. She began to feel as if he did not want to come into
the bedroom, as if he were trying to put off the moment of coming. She
remembered that he had seemed shy of her. What had come to them both
to-night? Her instinct moved her to break through this painful, this
absurd constraint.

"Maurice!" she called.

"Yes."

His voice sounded odd to her, almost like the voice of some other man,
some stranger.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Yes. Hermione."

But still he did not come. After a moment, he said:

"It's awfully hot to-night!"

"After Africa it seems quite cool to me."

"Does it? I've been--since you've been away I've been sleeping nearly
always out-of-doors on the terrace."

Now he came to the doorway and stood there. He looked at the white room,
at Hermione. She had on a white tea-gown. It seemed to him that
everything here was white, everything but his soul. He felt as if he
could not come into this room, could not sleep here to-night, as if it
would be a desecration. When he stood in the doorway the painful shyness
returned to her.

"Have you?" she said.

"Yes."

"Do you--would you rather sleep there to-night?"

She did not mean to say it. It was the last thing she wished to say. Yet
she said it. It seemed to her that she was forced to say it.

"Well, it's much cooler there."

She was silent.

"I could just put one or two rugs and cushions on the seat by the wall,"
he said. "I shall sleep like a top. I'm awfully tired!"

"But--but the sun will soon be up, won't it?"

"Oh--then I can come in."

"All right."

"I'll take the rugs from the sitting-room. I say--how's Artois?"

"Much better, but he's still weak."

"Poor chap!"

"He'll ride up to-morrow on a donkey."

"Good! I'm--I'm most awfully sorry about his rooms."

"What does it matter? I've made them quite nice already. He's perfectly
comfortable."

"I'm glad. It's all--it's all been such a pity--about to-day, I mean."

"Don't let's think of it! Don't let's think of it any more."

A passionate sound had stolen into her voice. She moved a step towards
him. A sudden idea had come to her, an idea that stirred within her a
great happiness, that made a flame of joy spring up in her heart.

"Maurice, you--you----"

"What is it?" he asked.

"You aren't vexed at my staying away so long? You aren't vexed at my
bringing Emile back with me?"

"No, of course not," he said. "But--but I wish you hadn't gone away.