Their eyes met for a moment. His face was very serious.
“I am sorry,” he said slowly. “Why, I do not know.”
“I positively insist upon knowing,” she declared cheerfully. “The sooner you tell me the better.”
“It is very hard to explain,” he answered. “I think that it is only an idea. Only you seem to me since the time when I knew you in Paris to have changed—to have changed in some subtle manner which I find at times utterly bewildering. I find you an impenetrable enigma. I find it impossible to associate you with—my little friend of the ‘Ambassador’s.’ The things she said and did from you—seem impossible. I had a sort of idea,” he went on, “that you were starting life all over again, and it seemed awfully plucky.”
There was a long silence. Then Anna spoke more seriously than usual.
“I think,” she said, “that I rather like what you have said. Don’t be afraid to go on thinking it. Even though I am going to sing at the ‘Unusual’ you may find that the ‘Alcide,’ whom you knew in Paris does not exist any more. At the same time,” she added, in a suddenly altered tone, “it isn’t anything whatever to do with you, is it?”
“Why not?” he answered. “You permitted me then to call you my friend. I do not intend to allow you to forget.”
They passed a man who stared at them curiously. Ennison started and looked anxiously at Anna. She was quite unconcerned.
“Did you see who that was?” he asked in a low tone.
“I did not recognize him,” Anna answered. “I supposed that he took off his hat to you.”