Francis made no reply. A triangular conversation of this sort was almost impossible. The members of the orchestra were already climbing up to their places, in preparation for the overture to the last act. Sir Timothy rose to his feet.
“You will excuse me for a moment,” he begged. “I see a lady to whom I must pay my respects.”
Francis drew a sigh of relief at his departure. He turned at once to his companion.
“Did you mind my coming?” he asked.
“Mind it?” she repeated, with almost insolent nonchalance. “Why should it affect me in any way? My father's friends come and go. I have no interest in any of them.”
“But,” he protested, “I want you to be interested in me.”
She moved a little uneasily in her place. Her tone, nevertheless, remained icy.
“Could you possibly manage to avoid personalities in your conversation, Mr. Ledsam?” she begged.
“I have tried already to tell you how I feel about such things.”
She was certainly difficult. Francis realised that with a little sigh.