CHAPTER XII
A couple of hours later Sylvia and Count Paul parted at the door of the Casino. He held her hand longer than was usual with him when bidding her good-night; then, dropping it, he lifted his hat and hurried off towards the station.
Sylvia stood in the dusk and looked after him till a turn in the short road hid his hurrying figure from her sight.
She felt very much moved, touched to the core of her heart. She knew just as well as if he had told her why the Comte de Virieu had given up his evening's play to-night. He had left Lacville, and arranged to meet her in Paris the next day, in order that their names might not be coupled—as would have certainly been the case if they had travelled together into Paris the next morning—by M. Polperro and the good-natured, but rather vulgar Wachners.
As she turned and walked slowly through the Casino, moving as in a dream, Sylvia suddenly felt herself smartly tapped on the shoulder.
She turned round quickly—then she smiled. It was Madame Wachner.
"Why 'ave you not come before?" her friend exclaimed. "Madame Wolsky is making such a sensation! Come quick—quick!" and she hurried the unresisting Sylvia towards the Club rooms. "I come downstairs to see if I could find you," went on Madame Wachner breathlessly.
What could be happening? Sylvia felt the other's ex-
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