“Delighted!” he said, smiling, and then explained that he had arrived from Ostend about two hours before and had taken rooms in the hotel.
“You knew we were staying here?” Eve asked as he shook hands with her.
“No,” he replied; “but I am very glad to find you again.”
“Are you?” She spoke languidly, but her colour heightened and those eyes of hers sparkled.
“Madame Lawrence,” Kitty chirruped, “let me present Mr. Cecil Thorold. He is appallingly rich, but we mustn’t let that frighten us.”
From a mouth less adorable than the mouth of Miss Sartorius such an introduction might have been judged lacking in the elements of good form, but for more than two years now Kitty had known that whatever she did or said was perfectly correct because she did or said it. The new acquaintances laughed amiably, and a certain intimacy was at once established.
“Shall I order tea, dear?” Eve suggested.
“No, dear,” said Kitty quietly. “We will wait for the Count.”
“The Count?” demanded Cecil Thorold.
“The Comte d’Avrec,” Kitty explained. “He is staying here.”