"So do I—even when I win, Sir Axel! I do so agree with you." The eyes took on a grateful look. Sir Axel was making a more favourable impression than the good man had any idea of. Cyril Maxon was responsible for Sir Axel's success this afternoon; it was a true instinct that had led Lady Rosaline to make a second appointment! Her nerves were soothed; her weariness passed into a pleasant languor. She smiled at him indolently, in peaceful contentment.
"When did you say you were off?" she inquired. In asking when he might come to see her, he had founded his plea on the ground of an early departure from London.
"Next Tuesday. I'm looking forward to it. I've never seen Venice. I shall be at Danieli's."
"Now did I ask for your address, Sir Axel?"
He laughed. "Oh, I was playing my own hand. I thought perhaps, if I couldn't stand my own society all the time, you'd let me pay a call on you at the Lakes on my way back."
Lady Rosaline and Mrs. Ladd had planned an absolutely quiet time at the Italian Lakes. But, then, Sir Axel was absolutely quiet—after Cyril Maxon.
"Well, I might go so far as to send you an address. Don't consider it a command—or even an invitation!"
"You see, I don't know a soul out there, and can't speak a word of the language."
"Well, if absolute desperation drives you to our door, perhaps we'll let you stay a little."
"Oh, I say, I didn't quite mean that!"