" She had always thought it a very pretty and pathetic
picture; but she no longer thought it so; in fact, it now appeared to her
to be a ridiculous travesty of life. Gamblers were just like other
people, neither better nor worse--and often infinitely more lovable
than were some other people....
At last Sylvia got up, and slowly made her way out of the wood. She did
not go back through the Wachners' garden; instead, she struck off to the
left, on to a field path, which finally brought her to the main road.
As she was passing the Pension Malfait the landlady came out to the gate.
"Madame!" she cried out loudly, "I have had news of Madame Wolsky at
last! Early this afternoon I had a telegram from her asking me to send
her luggage to the cloak-room of the Gare du Nord."
Sylvia felt very glad--glad, and yet once more, perhaps unreasonably,
hurt. Then Anna had been in Paris all the time? How odd, how really
unkind of her not to have written and relieved the anxiety which she must
have known her English friend would be feeling about her!
"I have had Madame Wolsky's room beautifully prepared for the English
gentleman," went on Madame Malfait amiably.
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