For there before him, curled up like
a tired puppy, her tumbled, golden hair lying in ringlets over the
leopard skin, was Toby, asleep in the dim, red lamplight.
For minutes he stood and gazed upon her before she awoke. For minutes
that strange glory came and went over his watching face. He did not stir,
did not seem even to breathe. But the fact of his presence must have
pierced her consciousness at last, for in the end quite quietly,
supremely naturally, the blue eyes opened and fixed upon him.
"Hullo!" said Toby sleepily. "Time to get up?"
And then, in a moment, she had sprung upright on the couch, swift dismay
on her face.
"I--I thought we were on the yacht! I--I--I never meant to go to sleep
here! I came to speak to you, sir. I wanted to see you."
He put a restraining hand upon her thin young shoulder, and his touch
vibrated as with some unknown force controlled.
"All right, Nonette!" he said, and his voice had the same quality; it was
reassuring but oddly unsteady. "Sorry I kept you waiting."
She looked at him. Her face was quivering. "I've had--a hell of a time,"
she said pathetically. "Been here hours--thought you'd never come. Your
man--your man said I wasn't to disturb you.
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