“I am bored,” she said abruptly. “This is a very foolish sort of entertainment. And, as usual,” she continued, a little bitterly, “I seem to have been sent along with the dullest and least edifying of Mrs. Montressor’s guests.”
Ennison glanced at the other people in the box and smiled.
“I got your note just in time,” he remarked. “I knew of course that you were at the Montressor’s, but I had no idea that it was a music hall party afterwards. Are you all here?”
“Five boxes full,” she answered. “Some of them seem to be having an awfully good time too. Did you see Lord Delafield and Miss Anderson? They packed me in with Colonel Anson and Mrs. Hitchings, who seem to be absolutely engrossed in one another, and a boy of about seventeen, who no sooner got here than he discovered that he wanted to see a man in the promenade and disappeared.”
Ennison at once seated himself.
“I feel justified then,” he said, “in annexing his chair. I expect you had been snubbing him terribly.”
“Well, he was presumptuous,” Annabel remarked, “and he wasn’t nice about it. I wonder how it is,” she added, “that boys always make love so impertinently.”
Ennison laughed softly.
“I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally.”
“Are you master of all three methods?” she asked, stopping her fanning for a moment to look at him.