She accepted the chair I was holding and unbuttoned her cloak.
"You will have some coffee?" I begged.
"Why, that would be delightful," she agreed. "I am so glad to find you with my father, Mr. Walmsley," she continued. "I know he hates dining alone; but this evening I had an appointment with a dressmaker quite late —and I didn't feel a bit like dinner anyhow."
"You come here often, don't you?" I ventured.
"Very often indeed," she replied. "You see it is not in the least entertaining where we are staying and the cooking is abominable. Then father adores restaurants. Do tell me what you have been talking about— you two men—all the evening?"
"The truth!" Mr. Parker remarked, lighting another cigar. "My daughter knows that I speak nothing else. It is a weakness of mine. Mr. Walmsley and I were exchanging notes as to our relative professions. I told him frankly that I was an adventurer and you an adventuress. I think by now he is beginning to believe it."
She laughed very softly—almost under her breath; yet I fancied there was a note of mockery in her mirth.
"Confess that you were very much shocked, Mr. Walmsley!" she said.
"Not in the least," I assured her.
She raised her eyebrows ever so slightly.