"Nerve, without a doubt," she insisted. "We all have it. Besides, don't you see he's changed their table so as to be out of sight? I wonder what he really thinks of me! If we'd belonged even to the really smart set in town, it wouldn't have been half so funny. They do so many things that seem wrong that people forget to be shocked."
"I can conceive," he murmured, "that your mother's ambitions would scarcely lead her in that direction."
Lady Anne shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't think she could get in if she tried. The really disreputable people in Society are so exclusive. I wonder, Julien, if I shall be allowed to come out and dine with you when I am Madame Christophor's secretary?"
"Once a week, perhaps," he suggested,—"scarcely oftener, I am afraid."
"Ah! well," she declared, "I shall like work, I am convinced. Julien, you are spoiling me. I am sure this is a cuisine de luxe. I told you to take me to a cheap restaurant."
"We will try them all in time," he answered. "I had to start by taking you to my favorite place."
"You really mean, then," she asked, "that you are going on being nice to me? Of course, I haven't the slightest claim on you. I suppose, as a matter of fact, I treated you rather badly, didn't I?"
"Not a bit of it," he assured her. "I was a failure, that was all. But of course I am going on being nice to you. There aren't too many people over here whom one cares to be with. There aren't very many just now," he continued, "who care to be with me."
"Idiotic!" she replied. "Tell me about this work of yours?"