She came close to him and her fingers played for a moment with his tie. She was very near to him and she laughed deliberately into his face. Tavernake held himself quite stiff and felt foolish. He also felt absurdly happy.
“There,” she remarked, when she had arranged it to her satisfaction, “you look all right now. I wonder,” she added, half to herself, “what you do look like. Something Colonial and forceful, I think. Never mind, help me on with my cloak and come along. You are a most respectable-looking escort, and a very useful one.”
Although Tavernake was nominally the host, it was Elizabeth who selected the table and ordered the supper. There were very few other guests in the room, the majority being down in the larger restaurant, but among these few Tavernake noticed two of the girls from the chorus at the Atlas. Elizabeth had chosen a table from which she had a view of the door, and she took the seat facing it. From the first Tavernake felt certain that she was watching for some one.
“Talk to me now, please, about this speculation,” she insisted. “I should like to know all about it, and whether you are sure that I shall get ten per cent for my money.”
Tavernake was in no way reluctant. It was a safe topic for conversation, and one concerning which he had plenty to say. But after a time she stopped him.
“Well,” she said, “I have discovered at any rate one subject on which you can be fluent. Now I have had enough of building properties, please, and house building. I should like to hear a little about Beatrice.”
Tavernake was dumb.
“I do not wish to talk about Beatrice,” he declared, “until I understand the cause of this estrangement between you.”
Her eyes flashed angrily and her laugh sounded forced.
“Not even talk of her! My dear friend,” she protested, “you scarcely repay the confidence I am placing in you!”