CHAPTER XVII
I
“Where you like your lunch, Meesis Barrington? Meester Barrington not very well. He stay alone.”
Valerie turned in her chair, her expression as impassive as Lee’s. “It’s rather cold outside, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It windy too. There is a fire in the study, Meesis Barrington.”
“Then I’ll have it there, thank you.”
She put down her pencil, and after he had gone she sat staring at nothing in particular. Then she shook together the sheets of paper scrawled in her flowing hand that littered the table in front of her. She got up and went to the bathroom to wash her hands. When she entered the study she saw at once there was no sign that Dane had been working there that morning, as he usually did when he wrote at that time of the day. A fine fire crackled its preliminary way to a solid blaze.
The restrained beauty of the room affected Valerie every time she entered it, but her pleasure in it was a little clouded now by a pang of loneliness. She was always ready to meet Dane by lunch time. She liked to have his suggestions and criticisms on what she had been trying to do in the morning. His interest and encouragement were a fine stimulus to her uncertainty. And she had lately been very pleased with herself because an Australian magazine had accepted her humorous article on the evolution of personal taste. Dane had liked it too,
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