elf.

"You must have known that I must come," he continued.

She felt her lips tremble, and was furious at them for it.

"I played the 'Souvenir' last night," he said, dropping his eyes and
sinking his voice; "it is then plain to me that I must travel to-day."

Something dragged her gaze upward until their eyes met.

He smiled, and she blushed deeply....

Chapter Six

It was very late that night--indeed the hour was dangerously close upon
the morning after--before the two friends found themselves alone
together again. Rosina lay up among the pillows, the centre of a mass of
blue cambric, with tiny bands of lace confining the fulness here and
there; while Molly, in such a dressing-gown as grows only in the Rue de
la Paix, sat on the foot of the narrow continental bed and thoughtfully
bound the braids of her bonny brown hair.

"Well, you know him now," Rosina said at last, the inflection of her
voice rampant with interrogative meaning.

"Yes," was the non-committal answer.

"Don't be horrid, Molly; you know I want so much to know what you think
of him? Isn't he delicious? Isn't he grand? Didn't he impress you as
being just an ideal sort of a celebrity?"

Molly opened her eyes to an exceeding width.

"I don't know," she said slowly.

"Don't know! then you don't like him? What don't you like about him?"

"Well, I'd prefer a Russian myself."

"Why! what do you mean?"

"They're not so fierce, and if one likes fierceness they're plenty
fierce enough."

"What are you talking about?"

"The way that he came bursting in on us to-day."

"But that was splendid! it was lovely to see him so worked up."

"You never can count on when he'll work up, though."

"But I like men you can't count on."

"Do you?"

"You see, I could always count on my husband, and that sort of
arithmetic isn't to my taste any more."

"Well, dear, from the little I've seen of Herr von Ibn I should say that
it would be impossible to ever work him by any other rule than that of
his own sweet--or otherwise--will."

"But I like that."

"Yes, so I gathered from your actions."

"And, after all, whatever he is--" Rosina paused and ran her fingers
through her hair. "It doesn't any of it amount to anything, you know,"
she added.

"Oh, dear no. That's evident enough."

Rosina started.

"What do you mean?" she cried.

"Oh, nothing as far as he's concerned;--only as far as you are."

"But," Rosina insisted, "you did mean som