Michael explained that he was alone, and that his visit here was an accident.
“Why did you come?” he asked.
“Oh, something to do,” said Lily. “We live near here.”
“So do I,” said Michael hastily.
“Do you?” Her eyebrows went up in what he imagined was an expression of rather cruel interrogation. “This is a silly sort of a show. Still, even Covent Garden is dull now.”
Michael thought what a fool he had been not to include Covent Garden in his search. How well he might have known she would go there.
“Where’s Doris?” he asked.
Lily shrugged her shoulders.
“I never see anything of her nowadays. She married an actor. I don’t often get letters from home, do I, Sylvia?”
The pierrette with rose pompons, who ever since her introduction had still been standing outside the conversation, now raised her mask. Michael liked her face. She had merry eyes, and a wide nose rather Slavonic. Next to Lily she seemed almost dumpy.