Nor, although she had had far too little sleep, did she feel in the least reluctant to rise. She hopped out of bed at once, washed, and donned her new riding dress with a delicious sense of excited anticipation. It took her only a few moments to roll her toilet articles into her new undergarments, fold her morning dress around those so that it would not crease excessively, and then wrap the bundle in a blanket Robert had sent up with the maid. The fact that Robert’s greeting was barely civil and that he promptly buried his head in a newspaper did not trouble Esmeralda, either. She assumed that he was bitterly regretting what he had done because he was imagining all sorts of horrors on the journey stemming from her presence. Owing to past experience, she was perfectly confident that there would be none. Thus, his grumpiness made her feel like giggling. That, however, would be most unwise, Esmeralda knew. One does not laugh at a gentleman at breakfast, particularly not a predawn breakfast, a time when the male sense of humor is at a low ebb.
