“Ah, but that is too difficult,” she protested. “Yet you must stay a little while, if only to tell me what M. Selden said of me.”
“He said you were an extraordinary and fascinating woman, madame,” said Scott, while Selden turned a little crimson; “an opinion in which I fully concur. So when I saw him to-night at Ciro’s with a lady also of unusual charm, I could only infer that it was you. I did not know that he had turned Turk as well as Royalist. When, upon inquiry, I found that it was not you, I confess that I was shocked.”
“Yes, it is true,” agreed madame; “I fear that he is very, very inconstant!”
“So I warn you against him, madame,” added Scott, rising. “Be on your guard—I even hesitate to leave you alone with him!”
“You are going? But it is not I who am sending you away!”
“No—it is duty compelling me. I have to get off my story of to-day’s events.”
“Good-bye then,” said Madame Ghita, and held out her hand, which Scott raised to his lips most respectfully.
Then he paused for an instant to look quizzically into Selden’s eyes.
“You old reprobate!” he snorted. “I see through your game! But it’s all right!” he added. “Will you have lunch with me to-morrow? At Amirauté’s? One o’clock? Good! Till to-morrow, then!”
The two watched him until he passed from sight. Then Madame Ghita turned to Selden with a smile.