"We shall meet again, Mr. Cresswell," she said, smiling upon him. "Do bring Mr. Rodd with you, if he cares to come. Au revoir!"
She turned away, followed by Lovejoy. The poet linked his arm through Aaron's and demanded another liqueur.
"You didn't really know the fellow, did you?" Aaron asked curiously.
"Not I," he replied, "but, as I have told you many times, I am a born adventurer. I am equal to any situation. Have I ever mentioned that I am also something of a snob?"
"I don't seem to remember the confession."
"Well, I am. I have an aunt who is the wife of a baronet. I make use of her occasionally. In the days of my more abject poverty I used to go there for a free meal when I had a black coat. She is by way of being a patroness of the arts, entertains all sorts of jumbled up parties. In all probability Mr. Lovejoy has either been asked to one of them or wishes he had. Hence my self-introduction. 'Mr. Lovejoy,' I say in my best manner, 'I believe I had the pleasure of meeting you at my aunt's, Lady Sittingley's?' He hesitates, and I can see that I have him fixed. He hasn't the least intention of ever denying that he was there, although he doesn't know me from Adam. And there you are, you know. It's the natural spirit of the adventurer."
"What was that about going on there to-night?" Aaron enquired.
"We are both going, my boy," was the cheerful reply. "Miss Pamela Keane is entertaining a few friends to chemin de fer at her flat in Buckingham Gate. I have explained that I do not play, but we are going to look in for a glass of wine and a chat. As a matter of fact, I just want to cast my eye over Lovejoy's friends, do you see?"
"There's no need for me to come," Aaron Rodd protested.
"There is every need," the poet insisted, watching the arrival of the liqueurs with satisfaction. "I like companionship. I like some one with whom to compare impressions after such a visit as this. You may notice something which has escaped me."