"I'm going, dearie," said Victoire; and she went down the stairs steadily, with a brave air.
He watched her half-way down the flight; then he muttered:
"If only she gets to Sonia in time."
He turned, went into the smoking-room, and shut the door. He sat quietly down in an easy chair, lighted a cigarette, and took up a paper. He heard the noise of the traffic in the street grow louder as the front door was opened. There was a pause; then he heard the door bang. There was the sound of a hasty footstep on the stairs; the door flew open, and Guerchard bounced into the room.
He stopped short in front of the door at the sight of Lupin, quietly reading, smoking at his ease. He had expected to find the bird flown. He stood still, hesitating, shuffling his feet—all his doubts had returned; and Lupin smiled at him over the lowered paper.
Guerchard pulled himself together by a violent effort, and said jerkily, "Good-morning, Lupin."
"Good-morning, M. Guerchard," said Lupin, with an ambiguous smile and all the air of the Duke of Charmerace.
"You were expecting me? . . . I hope I
