There was always something to see there--the flowers, the animals, the lake--and she flattered herself that on Monday she would be up betimes and searching.

Besides, many things might happen between now and Monday.
Sunday passed with equal doubts, worries, assurances, and heaven knows what vagaries of mind and spirit.

Every half-hour in the day the thought would come to her most sharply, like the tail of a swishing whip, that action--immediate action--was imperative.

At other times she would look about her and assure herself that things were not so bad--that certainly she would come out safe and sound.

At such times she would think of Drouet's advice about going on the stage, and saw some chance for herself in that quarter.