'And mademoiselle is jealous?' she inquired, with a little pout.
'There is no woman in the world,' he told her, 'who would not be jealous of Madame Félanie.'
She laughed at him with something of her old gaiety, threw herself back in her chair and passed him the cigarettes.
'We have a few minutes longer, at least,' she pleaded, 'before we make our pathetic farewells. You have not lost the gift of saying pleasant things, Ambrose.'
'Nor you, Adèle, the art of inspiring them,' he replied.
'Oh, là, là!' she exclaimed lightly. 'Tell me of your life here in London? Tell me why you came to renew our acquaintance if it is to be only a matter of this one visit?'
He had refused her offer of a chair and the cigarette, still unlit, was between his fingers.
'Yes, I will tell you that,' he said. 'You read, without a doubt, of the sinking of the Marabic?'
She shrugged her shoulders.
'Who has talked of anything else in London these few days?'