What a woman she was! What a triumph
to master her contemptuous stubborn being!
IV
At least, August reflected with a degree of comfort at breakfast, Emmy
didn't come down in the morning; she hadn't enough strength. He
addressed himself to the demolishment of a ripe Cassaba melon. It
melted in his mouth to the consistency of sugary water. His coffee cup
had a large flattened bowl, and pouring in the ropy cream with his free
hand he lifted the silver cover of a dish set before him. It held
spitted chicken livers and bacon and gave out an irresistible odor.
There were, too, potatoes chopped fine with peppers and browned; and
hot delicately sweetened buns. He emptied two full spits, renewed his
coffee and finished the potatoes.
With a butter ball at the center of a bun he casually glanced at the
day's paper. The submarines, he saw, were operating farther south. A
small passenger steamer, the _Veronica_ had been torpedoed outside
the Delaware Capes.
A step sounded in the hall, and Louise entered the dining room, clad
all in white with the exception of a closely fitting yellow hat. After
a moment Victorine, a girl small for her age, with a petulant satiated
expression, followed.
"It's a shame," Louise observed, "that with Morice and his wife in the
cottage you have to breakfast alone. I suppose all those theatrical
people get up at noon."
"Not quite," Rosalie told her from the doorway.
Louise made no reply other than elevating her brows.
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