Anne's question came like a rough hand to shake Pilar out of sleep.
Like a drowsy child who does not want to get up, she kept her eyes
closed for awhile. Another week! Four days more! Two days more! But
then she had to pack, for Anne exaggerated a slight cold, and at
short intervals let off a dry cough with the suddenness and force of
a pistol-shot, tied her head up in a white shawl, and begged to be
allowed to send to Paris for warm underclothing and her fur cloak.
In the hotel, too, from which all the servants had been dismissed,
and only the landlord, his wife, and a half-grown daughter remained,
the neglect became conspicuous. The rooms were not put in order till
late in the evening, and even then the landlady would come and
grumble that she could not manage so much work, and that was the
reason everything was late. A leg of mutton appeared upon the table
three days running, till nothing was left but the bone. In short, it
was not to be misunderstood that the hotel family wished to be
alone.
At last, at the beginning of the second week of October, the return
to Paris took place. During the five hours' railway journey Pilar
was silent and moody. She felt that an enchanting chapter of her
love-story had come to an end, and a fresh one beginning, the
unforeseen possibilities of which filled her with alarm.
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