"How little one knows of
another's life. After his death, there was nothing--there had been some
wild speculations; and the estates went with the title, of course, to
his cousin. But, yes,--in a way you were right. I was rich and happy
because I had Rosemary."
"And Rosemary had you, Angel," cried the child, who had been listening,
puzzled and bewildered, not knowing that they had forgotten her
presence until this moment. "Rosemary had you. And now we've all got
each other--till the fairy father vanishes."
"But I shan't have to vanish after all," said Hugh.
* * * * *
After that, it seemed they had been together but for a moment, when a
wild wail went moaning through the house; the first gong for the
_pensionnaires'_ dinner.
So loud it was that it hushed their voices for a long minute. And when
cool silence came again, Hugh begged that the two would have their
Christmas Eve dinner with him, at his hotel. "There's so much to plan
for to-morrow, and all the days," he pleaded. "And just for once
Rosemary shall have a late dinner like the grown-ups.
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