The young Englishwoman shook her head, smiling.
"I had a very good time that afternoon!" she cried. "And I shall always
feel grateful for your kindness to me and to poor Anna, Madame Wachner.
I do so often wonder what Anna is doing with herself, and where she is
staying in Paris." She looked wistfully at her companion.
Madame Wachner was in the act of pouring the boiling water into her china
teapot.
"Ah, well," she said, bending over it, "we shall never know that. Your
friend was a strange person, what I call a _solitaire_. She did not like
gambling when there were people whom she knew in the Baccarat Room with
her. As to what she is doing now--" she shrugged her shoulders,
expressively.
"You know she telegraphed for her luggage yesterday?" said Sylvia slowly.
"In that case--if it has had time to arrive--Madame Wolsky is probably on
her way to Aix, perhaps even to Monte Carlo. She did not seem to mind
whether it was hot or cold if she could get what she wanted--that is,
Play--"
Madame Wachner had now made the tea. She turned and stood with arms
akimbo, staring out of the little window which gave on the sun-baked lawn
bounded by the chestnut wood.
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