She went back by an earlier train than she had intended. She found that
her aunt and the others would not return till dark; it was no good to wait
for them.
She walked from Victoria to Chelsea along the Embankment, trying to
convince herself that it was good to be in London. But her step flagged as
she went up the stone stairs, and when she got to the flat and found that
Pauline had not returned, a great flood of loneliness rushed over her. She
put her flowers down on the table, and, covering her face with her hands,
she burst into tears.
CHAPTER VIII.
AN INVITATION.
It was nearly ten o'clock when Pauline returned. Madame Verney had begged
her so hard to stay and keep her company that she had not been able to
refuse, she told Rose, with many caresses.
"I have been thinking of you all the time, you poor darling. But what
could I do? Felicie--she begged me this evening to call her Felicie--was
so bent on my staying. I am going to take you to see her tomorrow. I
talked so much about my little English Rose. And what have you been doing
with yourself? What a pity you did not go to the concert! It was glorious.
We had delightful seats. I never enjoyed a concert so much before."
"I have been to Woodcote," Rose broke in. "It was such a lovely afternoon
I could not stay indoors."
Pauline looked dismayed.
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