"It's my belief," he began, then he stopped short. "Julien," he continued kindly, "you're nothing but a big baby. You think you've moved in the big places. So you have, in a way. But there was a hideous mistake about your life. You've never had to build. No one can climb who doesn't build first. These ready-made ladders don't count. Now," he added, dropping his voice and glancing quickly across the room, "you will have an opportunity to put into force your new and magnificent principles of misogyny. Our little sandy-headed friend has been summoned from the room. I saw the commissionaire come up and whisper in his ear. Mademoiselle is writing a note. A hundred to one it is to you!"
Julien frowned. He, too, turned his head, and he met the girl's eyes. She was looking at him curiously. It was not the look of the woman who invites so much as the look of the woman who appeals for an understanding, who has something to say. She smiled ever so faintly and touched with her finger the scrap of paper which she thrust into the waiter's hand. Then she bent once more over her plate. The man came across to Julien.
"For you, monsieur," he announced, and laid it by the side of Julien's plate.
"Read it," Kendricks whispered across the table, for he had been quick to see his companion's first impulse.
"Why should I?" Julien said coldly. "I have no desire to have anything to do with that young person. What can she have to say to me?"
"Nevertheless, read it," Kendricks repeated.
Julien unrolled the scrap of paper with reluctant fingers. There were only a few words written there in hasty pencil:
Monsieur, there is a friend of mine whom you must see. Call at number 17, Avenue de St. Paul and ask for Madame Christophor. Do not attempt to speak to me. This is for your good.
Julien's fingers were upon the note to destroy it, but again Kendricks stopped him.
"Julien," he insisted, "don't be an idiot. The little girl knows who you are. She can't imagine that you are in the humor just now for flirtations. Put the note in your pocket and call. One can't tell. Your life has been so artificial that you've probably left off believing in any adventures outside story-books. My life leads me into different places and I never neglect an opportunity like that."