"If it were not you, John," she declared, "I should say that you had been having more to drink than was good for you!"
"Then you would be very wrong," John assured her, "because I haven't had anything at all. I have come here to get something. Can't you come and sit with me?"
"Of course!" she assented eagerly. "The prince is giving a supper-party at the other end of the room there. We all came on together from the reception. Let us get away to your corner quickly, or they will see you and make you go and join them. I would much rather have you to myself. The people here seem so stupid to-night!"
John stood still, and made no movement toward the table which the maître d'hôtel was smilingly preparing for them.
"Where is the prince?" he asked.
Sophy, struck by something in his voice, swung around and looked at him. Then she thrust both her arms through his, clasped her two hands together, and led him firmly away. A glimmering of the truth was beginning to dawn upon her.
"Tell me where you have been since you left the reception," she insisted, when at last they were seated together.
"Wait till I have ordered some wine," he said.
A waiter served them with champagne. When John's glass was filled, he drained its contents. Sophy watched him with surprise. She came a little closer to him.
"John," she whispered, "you must tell me—do you hear? You must tell me everything! Did you take Louise home?"