Again she let it stay within his keeping, but she frowned, and a sudden gravity settled like a cloud upon her face.

She turned to the elder woman with a sort of appeal.
"No, I do not think we shall be here, tomorrow, shall we, madame ?" she said reluctantly.
"Of course not," said madame briskly.

"You have not forgotten what we have planned?
No, we shall not be here tomorrow; but the night after--yes." Celia turned back again to Wethermill.
"Yes, we have plans for tomorrow," she said, with a very wistful note of regret in her voice; and seeing that madame was already at the door, she bent forward and said timidly, "But the night after I shall want you." "I shall thank you for wanting me," Wethermill rejoined; and the girl tore her hand away and ran up the steps.
Harry Wethermill returned to the rooms.

Mr.Ricardo did not follow him.
He was too busy with the little problem which had been presented to him that night.

What could that girl, he asked himself, have in common with the raddled woman she addressed so respectfully?
Indeed, there had been a note of more than respect in her voice.