“Yes, I’m afraid it is.”
“By the way,” he said, dropping his instructive manner, “can you tell me where you get your hats? Do you mind?”
“Oh yes, of course I can; at several places. This one came from——” She hesitated a moment.
“Paquin?” he asked, in a low, mysterious voice.
“Selfridge,” she replied.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were a Selfridgette! But, please forgive my asking, won’t you? Someone who didn’t seem to know … I mean, a friend of mine. … Oh, well, I know you don’t mind telling me.”
He looked hard at her hat, could find no fault with it. Evidently its value was not diminished in his eyes. He was rather gratified that it did not come from some impossibly costly place. This pleased her; it was a good sign. Satisfaction at a moderate indication of economy suggested serious intentions.
“It suits you very well,” he went on, in his kind, approving way. “Now, will you give me another cup of tea?”
She poured it out rather shakily.
“No sugar, please.”