Chapter Thirty-TwoSally slept long and heavily. She did not waken when the car drew up, or when Bill carried her up a flight of stairs. She did not do more than open her eyes once or twice when Eleanor Farquhar and her maid were getting her to bed, and once there, she sank into a dreamless rest that closed over her like the waters of a great deep.
When at last she opened her eyes again, it was afternoon. The room seemed full of golden mist. Eleanor was sitting on the end of the bed and smiling. Sally blinked, smiled sleepily, and said: “Hullo—” The sound of her own voice brought her broad awake.
The golden mist was the low sunlight slanting in through curtains of orange net. The beam fell across Eleanor in a delightful russet gown.
Sally sat up. “Oh, my dear, how nice it is to see you,
