Pierre made a gesture of contempt.
"It will not be a very dangerous war for us," he laughed.
At this moment Jemmie, to his wife's regret, came in unexpectedly early.
"This is Monsieur Menard," she said, introducing the stranger with an air of faint embarrassment as if she were explaining the presence of some odd new decorative addition to the drawing-room of Woodworth Lodge. "Monsieur Menard visited us in King's Gate before we were married. He has been abroad for ten years."
"Charmed to make your acquaintance," said Pierre, bowing.
Jemmie shook hands with English awkwardness, evidently wondering how on earth he was expected to reply to the exaggerated courtesy of the stranger.
"I was wondering what night would suit Monsieur Menard to come and dine with us."
Jemmie glared at his wife in amazement; but without being openly rude he did not know how to dispose of the unwelcome invitation.
"What in creation put it in your head to ask that fellow to dinner?" he demanded when Pierre was gone. "You might have guessed that he would accept. He was probably afraid to refuse for fear of being rude."
"On the contrary, I think he was agreeably surprised to find that somebody in this house was polite enough to invite him," said Mary.