Here is a most inviting seat." Wearily she sat down on a bench which faced the entrance to one of the rooms.
"Shall I bring you a glass of water or an ice, Adrien ?" inquired Hugh, noting the pallor in her face.
"Thank you.

A glass of water, if you will be so kind.

How deliciously fragrant that spruce is." As her partner set off upon his errand, Adrien stepped to the spruce tree which screened the open door of the room opposite, and taking the bosky branches in her hands, she thrust her face into the aromatic foliage.
"How deliciously fragrant," she murmured.
Suddenly, as if stabbed by a spine in the trees, she started back and stood gazing through the thick branches into the room beyond There stood Maitland and Annette, the girl, with her face tearfully pale and pleading, uplifted to his and with her hands gripped tight and held fast in his, clasped against his breast.

More plainly than words her face, her eyes, her attitude told her tale.

She was pouring out her very soul to him in entreaty, and he was giving eager, sympathetic heed to her appeal.
Swiftly Adrien stepped back from the screening tree, her face white as if from a stunning blow, her heartbeats checking her breath.