By the bye, he must tell his
father that; the old man would be pleased.
An hour later, he again stood at his window, staring at the clouds
and the blue. Russian was against the grain, somehow, this morning.
He wondered whether Miss Derwent had learnt any during her winter at
Helsingfors.
What a long day was before him! He kept looking at his watch. And,
instead of getting on with his work, he thought and thought again of
the story of Thibaut.
CHAPTER V
At lunch Piers was as silent as at breakfast; he hardly spoke, save
in answer to a chance question from Mrs. Hannaford. His face had an
unwonted expression, a shade of sullenness, a mood rarely seen in
him. Miss Derwent, whose animation more than made up for this
muteness in one of the company, glanced occasionally at Otway, but
did not address him.
As his habit was, he went out for an afternoon walk, and returned
with no brighter countenance. On the first landing of the staircase,
as he stole softly to his room, he came face to face with Miss
Derwent, descending.
"We are going to have tea in the garden," she exclaimed, with the
friendliest look and tone.
"Are you? It will be enjoyable--it's so warm and sunny."
"You will come, of course?"
"I'm sorry--I have too much to do."
He blundered out the words with hot embarrassment, and would have
passed on. Irene did not permit it.
"But you have been working all the morning?"
"Oh, yes----"
"Since when?"
"Since about--oh, five o'clock----"
"Then you have already worked something like eight hours, Mr.
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