She paused. He leaned a little towards her. She was looking intently at a ring upon her finger.
“If you would really like to see me,” she whispered, “and if you are sure that Mademoiselle Celaire would not object, could you not ask me to tea to-morrow—or the next day?”
“To-morrow,” Peter insisted, with a becoming show of eagerness. “Shall we say at the Canton at five?”
She hesitated.
“Isn’t that rather a public place?” she objected.
“Anywhere else you like.”
She was silent for a moment. She seemed to be waiting for some suggestion from him. None came, however.
“The Carlton at five,” she murmured. “I am angry with Andrea. I feel, even, that I could break his wonderful violin in two!”
Peter sighed once more.
“I should like to twist von Hern’s neck,” he declared. “Lucky for him that he’s in St. Petersburg! Let us forget this unpleasant matter, mademoiselle. The evening has been too delightful for such memories.”