'This afternoon especially, Anne. You must stay with me till about a quarter of an hour before I expect him. The horrible agony of waiting is so frightful! It makes me feel so ill. But I don't want you to stay beyond the time I expect him, in case he's late. Because then I suffer so much that I couldn't bear you to see it.' 'I see. How jolly it must be to be in love! You _do_ seem to have a good time.' 'When one has the slightest hope, Anne, it's simply too awful. Of course, if one hasn't, one bears it.' 'And if one has no encouragement, I suppose one gets over it?' 'I have a presentiment that everything will be all right today,' said Hyacinth. 'Is that a bad sign?' 'There are no good signs, in your present state,' answered Anne. It was about half-past four, and Hyacinth in the blue dress, was sitting in the studio, where she could see both the window and the clock. Anne, by the fire, was watching her. 'You seem very fairly calm, Hyacinth.' 'I am calm,' she said. 'I am; quite calm. Except that my heart is beating so fast that I can hardly breathe, that I have horrible kinds of shivers and a peculiar feeling in my throat, I'm quite all right. Now, just fancy if I had to pretend I wasn't in suspense! If I had no-one to confide in!... Do you think he's mistaken the day? Do you think he thinks it's Thursday instead of Tuesday?' 'That's not likely.' 'I'm glad I feel so cool and calm. How ashamed I should be if he ever knew that I was so agitated!' 'Who knows, perhaps he's feeling as uncomfortable as you are?' 'Oh, no, no! There's no hope of that.... Will he telephone and put it off, do you think, at the last minute?' 'I shouldn't think so.' 'Are there any little pink cakes?' 'Heaps. Far more than will ever be eaten.' 'Now, don't talk to me, Anne. I'm going to read for a quarter of an hour.' She took up a novel and read two pages, then looked up at the clock and turned pale. 'It's five. Is that clock fast?' 'No; listen, the church clock's striking. Good-bye.' Anne went, and Hyacinth kissed her hand to her and arranged her hair in the mirror. She then sat down and resolved to be perfectly quiet. Ten minutes slowly ticked away, then Hyacinth went to the window, saying to herself that it was an unlucky thing to do. She did not remain there long, then walked round and round the room. Several cabs passed, each of which she thought was going to stop. Then she sat down again, looking cool and smiling, carelessly holding a book.... Each time the cab passed. It was half-past five, rather late under the circumstances. She was angry. She resolved to be very cold to him when he first came in, or--no, she wouldn't be cold, she would pretend she didn't know he was late--hadn't noticed it; or she would chaff him about it, and say she would never wait again. She took the letter from her pocket and read it again. It said:-- 'DEAR MISS VERNEY, 'May I come and see you at five o'clock tomorrow afternoon? 'Yours, 'CECIL REEVE.'