"Won't you have some whisky? I know men always like whisky at night."
She touched a bell on the table.
"The whisky, Lottie—you forgot it."
Richard was almost awed by her demeanour. Where could she have learnt it? He felt not unlike a bumpkin, and secretly determined to live up to the standard of deportment which she had set.
"You may smoke," she said, when Lottie had cleared the table after supper; "I like it. Here are some cigarettes—'Three Castles'—will they do?" Laughing, she produced a box from the sideboard, and handed it to him. He went to the sofa, and she stood with one elbow resting on the mantelpiece.
"About going to the theatre—" she began.
"May I take you? Let us go to the Comedy."
"And you will book seats, the dress circle?"
"Yes. What night?"
"Let us say Friday.... And now you may read me those documents."