Sylvia had been as anxious for the thermometer to go up as her father himself, for it was several days now since she had seen Woodville alone. And he had been nervously counting the minutes until the moment of freedom, having, to-day, a stronger reason than ever before to desire a quiet talk. Woodville had expressed some remorse--not much, though considerably more than he felt--for what Sylvia called his conduct during their last interview, and she meant this morning to forgive him. "I've only come," said Sylvia, sitting opposite him at the writing-table, "because I saw you were _really_ sorry for ... the other day. _Are_ you sorry?" "Awfully." "_That's_ not very flattering," said Sylvia. "I wanted you, too, dreadfully this morning," he said eagerly. "I've got something wonderful to tell you--to show you." "Anything dreadful?" she asked, turning pale. He took out a letter. "Listen! Since the other day I had made up my mind to go away from here. I began to see I couldn't bear it. At least, for a time." "What!" cried Sylvia, rising to her feet. "Yes. But you needn't worry. I've changed my mind, darling. And before I tell you any more----" He leant across the writing-table and kissed her softly, and at some length. "Now," he said, "read this letter." "From the Greek fiend! Is he trying to take you away from me again?" "No, he's not. Read it aloud." Sylvia read:-- "'RITZ HOTEL, PARIS. "'My dear Woodville,--In the short time since I had the pleasure of seeing you, certain changes have come over my views on many subjects; my future is likely to be entirely different from what I had supposed, and I felt impelled to let you know, before any one else, of the unexpected happiness that is about to dawn for me.' "Oh, Frank, how long-winded and flowery!" "Never mind that. It's his style always when he's sentimental. Do go on reading." Sylvia went on. "'I was greatly disappointed at first to know you were unwilling to go to Athens. Perhaps, however, it is better as it is. Briefly, I have found in la _ville lumière_ what I had longed for and despaired of--a reciprocal affection--that of a young and innocent girl--'" "Sylvia, don't waste time. Go on!"