"Did you say anything?" he asked.
"You dear stupid, of course I did not! Or if I did, it was just one of those little whispers to oneself which mean nothing, yet which count for so much. Can I not do anything to make you enjoy yourself more? I shall have to go back to my guests now. We are expecting a royal personage, and those two dears who keep so close to my side do not speak a word of English."
"Please go back, dear," John begged promptly. "It was nice of you to come at all. And here's Sophy at last, thank goodness! Now I am all right."
She laid her fingers upon his arm.
"You must take me back to my place," she said. "Then you can go and talk nonsense to Sophy. I won't even ask you what she said when you told her the news. I suppose you did tell her?"
"Of course!"
She glanced at him swiftly. His reply had sounded a little lame; but they were back in the crowd now, and she dismissed him with a little nod. He made his way quickly to the spot where he had seen Sophy. To his disappointment, she had disappeared. Graillot, however, came up and seized him by the arm.
"Still playing the moth, my young friend?" he exclaimed. "Aren't the wings sufficiently burned yet?"
"I am afraid it's become a permanent rôle," John replied, as the two men shook hands. "Where have you been all these weeks, and why haven't you been to see me?"
"Paris, my dear young friend—Paris and life! Now I am back again—I am not sure that I know why. I came over with these French people, to see them start their theater. Forgive me, I have not paid my respects to our hostess. We shall meet again presently."