But he did not come, and
she went to her state-room and tried to forget him, and to think of
something other than the reception awaiting her back in the dismal
region known as Morovenia.
XIII
THE HOME-COMING
The Governor-General waited in the main reception-room for the truant
expedition. He was hoping against hope. Orders had been given that
Popova, Kalora and the whole disobedient crew should be brought before
him as soon as they arrived. His wrath had not cooled, but somehow his
confidence in himself seemed slowly to evaporate, as it came time for
him to administer the scolding--the scolding which he had rehearsed over
and over in his mind.
He heard the rolling wheels grit on the drive outside, and then there
was murmuring conversation in the hallway, and then Kalora entered. His
most dreadful suspicions were ten times confirmed. She wore no veil and
no flowing gown. She was tightly incased in a gray cloth suit, and there
was no mistaking the presence of a corset underneath. On her head was a
kind of Alpine hat with a defiant feather standing upright at one side.
Before her father had time to study the details of this barbaric
costume, he sat staring at her as she was silhouetted for an instant
between him and the open window.
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