"I do not rest well when I have not been allowed to undress Mademoiselle." "Sit up, then, in your own room, and wait there for me till I ring for you," I replied.

"I shan't be late, whether Mr.Dundas comes or doesn't come." "Supposing the gate-bell should ring, and Mademoiselle should go, yet it should not be the Monsieur she expects, but another person whom she would not care to admit ?" I knew of what she was thinking, and of whom.
"There's no fear of that.

No fear of any kind," I answered.
She took off my cloak, and went upstairs reluctantly, carrying my jewel box.
I walked into the drawing-room, which was lighted and looked very bright and charming, with its many flowers and framed photographs, and the delightful Louis Quinze furniture, which I had so enjoyed picking up here and there at antique shops or at private sales.
I flung myself on the sofa, but I could not rest.

In a moment I was up again, moving about, looking at the clock, comparing it with my watch, wondering what could have happened to make Ivor fail in keeping his promise to be prompt on the hour of twelve.
Of course, a hundred harmless things might have kept him, but I thought only of the worst, and was working myself up to a frenzy when at last I heard the gate-bell.

I had been in the house no more than twelve or fourteen minutes, but it seemed an hour, and I gave a sob of relief as I rushed out, down the garden path, to let my visitor in.
Fumbling a little at the lock, always a little difficult if one were in a hurry, I asked myself what if, as Marianne had suggested, it were not Ivor Dundas, but someone else--Raoul, perhaps--or the man who had been in her mind: Godensky.
But it was Ivor.
"What news ?" I questioned him, my voice sounding queer and far away in my own ears.
"I don't know whether you'll call it news or not, though plenty of things have happened.