"18, Old Compton Street," she answered. "Afterwards—"
She hesitated. I stood before her in an attitude of respectful attention.
"You like to come and drink a glass of beer with me?" she asked. "I live close there."
She was smiling at me with placid amicability. I was a little taken aback and hesitated.
"You come," she whispered persuasively. "No. 36, over the tailor's shop.
You will find it easily. Afterwards I come here to dine! So?"
I was on the horns of a dilemma, for while my acceptance of her invitation might land me in a somewhat embarrassing position, I was still anxious to know exactly what her reasons were for asking me. She leaned a little closer towards me. Her black eyes were very bright and sparkling.
"I expect you," she declared. "So!"
I bowed.
"Thank you very much," I said, "I will come!"
She paid her bill and departed. I opened the door for her myself, and she whispered something in my ear as she went out. Karl, who had been watching us curiously, came up to me a few moments later.