When she had finished she was thoroughly perplexed.
She had an uncomfortable sense of having come into touch with something
wholly unexpected and mysterious.
"What am I to do?" she said to herself softly.
"What can it mean? Where on earth can Guy--have found this?"
There was no one to answer her, no one to advise. An overwhelming sense
of her own loneliness brought the tears into her eyes. She sat for some
time with her face buried in her hands. Then she rose up, calmly
destroyed her translation with minute care, and locked away the
mysterious sheet at the bottom of her dressing-bag. The more she thought
of it the less, after all, she felt inclined to connect it with his
disappearance.
CHAPTER IV
THE FALLING OF THE HANDKERCHIEF
Monsieur Albert looked over her shoulder for the man who must surely be
in attendance--but he looked in vain.
"Mademoiselle wishes a table--for herself alone!" he repeated
doubtfully.
"If you please," she answered.
It was obvious that Mademoiselle was of the class which does not
frequent night cafes alone, but after all that was scarcely Monsieur
Albert's concern. She came perhaps from that strange land of the free,
whose daughters had long ago kicked over the barriers of sex with the
same abandon that Mademoiselle Flossie would display the soles of her
feet a few hours later in their national dance.
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