But here was Morris seated with Mina Raff on the stairs to the
upper floor, beyond the radius of the fire; and, though they were not
ten feet away, he could not hear a word of what they were saying. At
intervals there was an indistinct murmur, nothing more. Claire, at Lee
Randon's side, was sitting with her chin high and a gaze concentrated
on the twisting flames: talking generally had fallen into a pause.
The door from without opened, Fanny entered, and there was a momentary
revival of animation. "Is Lee here?" she demanded; "but I know he is.
The fire is just as attractive at home, yet, even with nothing to do,
he'll hardly wait to give it a poke. Where's Peyton?"
"On the stairs," someone answered casually.
There was a movement, and Mina Raff approached. "It's so hot here," she
asserted.
"It is warmer out," Fanny informed her; "I wonder what the weather is
in New York?"
"I can't say, I'm sure; but I shall discover tomorrow morning. I have
to be back as early as possible. Then--work, work, work."
"Mina has been made a star," Peyton Morris announced. But he stopped
awkwardly, apparently conscious of the warmth, the largeness, in his
voice. Fanny whispered to Lee that it was quite too outrageous. In
return, he asked, "What?" and, indignant, she drew away from him.
The conversation died again. Lee Randon could see Mina Raff's profile,
held darkly against the glow; her lips and chin were firm.
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