"Madame knew--she had dined in
Madame's private room the last two days," but she could not
tell anything more about her, and did not even know her name.
When Graham came back to the room, he found Madelon standing
listlessly as he had left her; she had not moved. "Well," he
said cheerily, "that is settled; now you are my property for
the present; you shall sleep at my hotel to-night."
"At your hotel?" she said, looking up at him.
"Yes, where I am staying. Your friend here is not well. I
think I shall look after you better. You do not mind coming
with me?"
"No, no!" she cried, beginning to cling to him in her old way--
"I will go anywhere with you. Indeed I did not mean what I
said, but I am very unhappy."
"You are tired and wet," answered Graham, "but we will soon
set that to rights; you will see to-morrow, you will not be
unhappy at all. Old friends like you and me, Madelon, should
not cry at seeing each other again; should they?"
Talking to her in his kind, cheerful way, they walked briskly
along till they arrived at the hotel. Madelon was tired out,
and he at once ordered a room, fire, and supper for her, and
handed her over to the care of a good-natured chambermaid.
Pages:
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466