"The rest?"
"That you were beginning to tell."
The girl blushed. "I was afraid afterwards, you might have been bored, or anyway surprised. You probably thought it 'very American' of me to talk about my own affairs to a stranger, and it isn't, you know. I shouldn't like you to think Americans are less well brought up than other girls, just because I may do things that seem queer. I have to do them. And I am quite different from others. You mustn't suppose I'm not."
Stephen was curiously relieved. Suddenly he felt young and happy, as he used to feel before knowing Margot Lorenzi. "I never met a brilliantly successful person who was as modest as you," he said, laughing with pleasure. "I was never less bored in my life. Will you talk to me again—and let me talk to you?"
"I should like to ask your advice," she replied.
That gave permission for Stephen to draw his chair near to hers. "Have you had tea?" he inquired, by way of a beginning.
"I'm too American to drink tea in the afternoon," she explained. "It's only fashionable Americans who take it, and I'm not that kind, as you can see. I come from the country—or almost the country."
"Weren't you drawn into any of our little ways in London?" He was working up to a certain point.
"I was too busy."
"I'm sure you weren't too busy for one thing: reading the papers for your notices."