"Do you think so?" he whispered. "Look!"
Phyllis was seated next Duncombe, and he too was whispering something in her ear. The look with which she answered him, told all that there was to know. The Marquise, who had intercepted it, shrugged her shoulders.
"It is not worth while, my friend, that you break your heart," she murmured, "for that one can see is an affair arranged."
He nodded.
"After all," he said, "the true Frenchman loves only in his own country."
"Or in any other where he may chance to be," she answered drily. "Never mind, Henri! I shall not let you wander very far. Your supper-party has been delightful—but you see the time!"
They trooped down the narrow stairs laughing and talking. Duncombe and Phyllis came last, and their hands met for an instant behind the burly commissionaire.
"Until to-morrow!"
"Until to-morrow," she echoed softly, as he handed her into the electric coupé.
Andrew and he drove down the hill together. Duncombe was a little ill at ease.