"Don't be stupid!" she replied. "Please remember that when you are with me, at any rate, you are in Bohemia and not Belgravia. I don't expect such attentions. I rather like coming up to your rooms like this, and I always love the Milan. I really believe that I am your first lady visitor here."
"You most assuredly are!" he told her.
She turned away from the window and suddenly threw up her arms.
"Oh, I love this place!" she exclaimed. "I love the sort of evening that we are going to have! I feel happy to-night. And do you know?—I quite like you, Mr. Strangewey!"
She clasped the back of her chair and from behind it looked across at him. She was petite and slender, with a very dainty figure. She wore a black tailor-made costume, a simple, round-black hat with a long quill set at a provoking angle, white-silk stockings, and black, patent shoes. She was unlike any girl John had ever known. Her hair was almost golden, her eyes a distinct blue, yet some trick of the mouth saved her face from any suggestion of insipidity. She was looking straight into his eyes, and her lips were curled most invitingly.
"I wish I knew more about certain things," he said.
She came round from behind the chair and stood a little nearer to him.
"What things?"
"You know," he said, "I am afraid there is no doubt about it that I am most horribly in love with another woman. I have come to London because of her. It seems to me that everything in life depends upon how she treats me. And yet—"
"And yet what?" she asked, looking up at him a little wistfully.