'' He
walked a few paces, turned, and came back. ``By the
way, I'm sailing on the Deutschland. I thought you'd
like to know--so that you and I wouldn't by any
chance cross on the same boat.''
``Thanks,'' said she dryly.
``What's the matter?'' asked he, arrested, despite his
anxiety to be gone, by the sad, scornful look in her
eyes.
``Nothing. Why?''
``You had such a--such a queer look.''
``Really? Good-by.''
In fact, she had thought--had hoped for the sake
of her liking for him--that he had come back to make
the glaringly omitted offer of help that should have
come from any human being learning that a fellow
being was in the precarious position in which she had told
him she was. Not that she would have accepted any
such offer. Still, she would have liked to have heard the
kindly words. She sat watching his handsome, graceful
figure, draped in the most artistically cut of long
dark overcoats, until he disappeared in the crowd in
the Rue de Castiglione. Then, without a glance up
at the interested, not to say excited windows of the
general's splendid and spreading apartments, she
strolled down the gardens toward the Place Concorde.
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