The rosy-cheeked, gray-haired priest of Silenus said her ladyship was there, "alone," he added with a little emphasis.

Claudius walked in, and was not disappointed.

There she sat at the side of the table in her accustomed place, dark and beautiful, and his heart beat fast.

She did not look up.
"Countess," he began timidly.
"Oh, Doctor Claudius, is that you?
Sit down." He sat down on the transom, so that he could see the evening light fall through the port-hole above him on her side face, and as the vessel rose and fell the rays of the setting sun played strangely on her heavy hair.
"I have not seen you all day," she said.
"No, Countess." He did not know what to say to her.
"I trust you are none the worse for your foolish performance this morning ?" Her voice was even and unmodulated, not too friendly and not too cold.
"I am, and I am not.

I am unspeakably the worse in that I displeased you.