When she did that she was so alluring, so cunning, that Kendall had to hold his arms stiff at his sides to prevent them from picking her up and cuddling her and kissing her.... It seemed that humor of hers was given her to tempt kisses. Yet there was nothing deliberately provocative about her, nothing. Quite the contrary. It seemed rather her desire to suppress such things as demonstrations of affection than to provoke them.
At the apartment the concierge bowed and smiled to them, and wished them a good evening. Up-stairs Arlette was manifestly upset by the appearance of an unexpected guest, but Andree disappeared into the kitchen, whence emerged a whirlwind of chatter, and all was well.... Bert was just finishing shaving.
“Andree, eh?” he said. “Why didn’t you tip me off, and I’d have gathered up Madeleine.”
“I don’t know.... I—” Kendall was thinking about the other night.
“Piffle!” said Bert. Then, “Do you mean to tell me—”
“I certainly do mean to tell you,” Ken said, belligerently.
“You get me, young fellow. You sure do....”
“Oh, dry up, and come to dinner—and behave if you can manage it.” Kendall went into the salon to rejoin Andree, more than a little apprehensive of the future if it should throw Andree and Madeleine together.
Andree was looking about the room with humorous toleration from a seat in the outrageous piece of furniture which she had claimed as her throne. “Mademoiselle Madeleine—she is not here?”
“No.”