CHAPTER XIV
The day after her memorable expedition to Paris opened pleasantly for Sylvia Bailey, though it was odd how dull and lifeless the Villa du Lac seemed to be without Count Paul.
But he would be back to-morrow, and in the morning of the next day they were to begin riding together.
Again and again she went over in retrospect every moment of the two hours she had spent in that great house in the Faubourg St. Germain.
How kind these two ladies had been to her, Paul's gentle sister and his stately little fairy-like godmother! But the Duchesse's manner had been very formal, almost solemn; and as for the other—Sylvia could still feel the dim, yet terribly searching, eyes fixed on her face, and she wondered nervously what sort of effect she had produced on the old Marquise.
Meanwhile, she felt that now was the time to see something of Anna Wolsky. The long afternoon and evening stretching before her seemed likely to be very dull, and so she wrote a little note and asked Anna if she would care for a long expedition in the Forest of Montmorency. It was the sort of thing Anna always said bored her, but as she was not going to the Casino a drive would surely be better than doing nothing.
And now Sylvia, sitting idly by her bed-room window, was awaiting Anna's answer to her note. She had sent
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