‘It was a great thing getting her to the rose-show. For that, Geff, I suspect, I must thank you.’ Gaston gave a penetrating glance at his cousin’s face. ‘Miss Bartrand would certainly not have called on us but at your instigation, and through Miss Bartrand my poor Dinah has been introduced—well, to Lord Rex Basire, an Open Sesame! let us trust, to the strictly guarded gates of insular society.’
CHAPTER XVII THE FIRST CRUMPLED ROSE-LEAF
Rex Basire showed no disposition to let his newly-made acquaintance with Dinah Arbuthnot cool. Long before the hour for visitors on Monday afternoon, Louise, the French waitress, entered the Arbuthnots’ parlour. She placed before Dinah a card, also a bouquet made up entirely of white and costly hothouse flowers. Just like the bouquet Gaston gave her on her wedding morning! thought Dinah, with a rush of bitter-sweet recollection.
‘The Monsieur who was here yesterday, le petit Milor au moustache blond, demanded news of Madame. Was Madame visible? Should she, Louise, pray Milor to enter?’
Dinah glanced with indifference at card and flowers alike, then she rose from her work-table. Gaston Arbuthnot, it happened, was at home, putting the finishing touches to ‘Dodo’s Despair’ in his improvised studio. Walking quickly to the open window, Dinah, in a whisper, appealed to her husband.
‘Gaston, how shall I get rid of Lord Rex Basire? He has sent in his card and some flowers, as if flowers from a stranger could give one pleasure! He demands news of me, the French girl says, but that is too senseless. Tell me the civil way to—to——’
‘Shut the door in his face,’ observed Gaston Arbuthnot, looking up from his model as Dinah hesitated. ‘Why shut the door at all? The poor boy will be better off talking to you than he would be making useless purchases for young ladies in the Petersport shops.’
‘But I am at work. I am counting off stitches for the forget-me-nots round Aunt Susan’s ottoman, and then I shall come outside. I want no company but yours.’