"Since then," he replied, "we have both burst the bonds—I of necessity, you of choice."
"I don't believe," she declared, helping herself to hors d'oeuvres, "that we are either of us going to be sorry for it."
"One can never tell. So far as you are concerned, I haven't got over the wonder of it yet. You never showed me so much of the woman throughout our engagement as you have shown me during the last few days."
"My dear Julien," she protested, "you didn't know where to look for it. Why does this funny little man with the mutton-chop whiskers hover around our table all the time?"
"He is distressed," Julien explained, "to see you eating so much bread and butter. He fears that you will not have an appetite for the very excellent dinner which I have ordered."
"He is right," she decided. "Never mind, I will leave the rolls alone.
I am still, I can assure you, ravenous."
She leaned back and, looking out into the room, began to laugh. People who passed never failed to notice her. She was certainly a striking-looking girl and she had, above all, the air.
"Julien," she cried, "this is really too amusing! Did you see who went by just then? It was Lord Athlington—my venerable uncle—with the lady with the yellow hair. He saw you here with me—saw us sitting together alone, having dinner—me unchaperoned, a runaway! Isn't it delicious?"
Julien looked after his companion's elderly relative with a smile.
"I wonder," he remarked, "whether your uncle's magnificent unconsciousness is due to defective eyesight or nerve?"