"I have been out in a shower in Patagonia," she reminded him, "which lasted for three weeks. Will it suit you to start in half an hour?"
"Any time you like," he agreed.
She had changed her position a little, and he was forced to look at her.
"Mr. Strangewey," she said, "I want to ask you a question. Are you going to marry Louise Maurel?"
"I am," he replied, without hesitation; "at least, I hope to do so."
She looked at him for a moment with a strange expression. Then she rose to her feet. Her lips were quivering. She leaned against the mantelpiece, with her forehead upon her arms. At first he imagined that she was going to weep; then, to his horror, he found that she was laughing—half-hysterically, perhaps, but still laughing. He drew a step nearer to her, but she waved him away.
"Sit down!" she gasped. "Oh, if I might tell this to Henri Graillot! What a play! What humor! My friend John Strangewey, I congratulate you! You have created a new situation in life. Leave me alone, please!"
She bent forward until her face was completely hidden. Her body was shaken. Once or twice he fancied that her laughter had turned to sobs. When at last she looked up, however, there were the remains of an almost devilish mirth on her lips. She rang the bell.
"That is for my maid," she said. "I am now going to change my clothes and let you motor me up to London. I shall get some fresh air, at any rate, and your car always fills me with longing. Amuse yourself, won't you? I shall be an hour getting ready, and I will order an early tea."
"You wouldn't care to tell me, I suppose," he asked, "what is the new situation in life which you say I have created?"