Chapter 14Aria put down the receiver after a long and rather complicated conversation in German and turned to her typewriter. But somehow she could not concentrate on the letter she was typing.
She stood up and walked across the room to look out over the garden at the mist, damp and rather depressing, which hid the beauties of the valley from sight.
She was nervous and it showed itself in the sudden tightening of the muscles at the corners of her mouth, the nervous fluttering of her fingers as they laced and interlaced each other and the way her thoughts would not concentrate on any one item.
She had never known the hours pass more slowly. It seemed to her that the day had prolonged itself until each minute seemed to linger in its passing as if time stood still.
Only three o’clock. The
