“Well, Macheson’s a fair knockout,” he declared. “I’m hanged if he can keep still for five minutes. And when I knew him at Oxford, he was one of the most studious chaps in the college. Gad! he’s dancing with another girl now—look, he’s drinking champagne out of her glass. Shouldn’t stand it, Ella.”
Ella was watching him. Her eyes were very bright, and there was more colour than usual in her cheeks.
“It’s nothing to me what Mr. Macheson does,” she said, with a catch in her voice. “I don’t understand him a bit. I think he’s mad.”
Mademoiselle Rosine leaned across and whispered in her ear. Ella shook her head.
“You see—it is any girl with him,” she said. “He dances with them, pays their bills—see, he pays for Annette there, and away he goes—laughing. You see it is so with them, too. He has finished with them now. He comes back to us. Guess I’m not sure I want him.”
Nevertheless she moved her skirts and made room for him by her side. Macheson came up out of breath, and poured himself out a glass of wine.
“What a time they are serving supper!” he exclaimed.
Davenant groaned.
“My dear fellow,” he exclaimed, “remember our dinner at Lesueur’s. You can’t be hungry!”