There was only one way out of this awkward conversation. Evie became easily confidential. She spoke as a woman of the world to a man of the world.
"Of course you did," she said. "I appreciate what you say, François. If I saw a girl—well—compromising herself, I mean a girl who hadn't my experience of the world, I'd say the same as you, but—"
A knock at the outer door interrupted her. François shot an imploring glance in her direction, and she nodded.
"There you are, Ronnie—didn't you say I was to come straight here?"
"Hello, Evie," he seemed a little annoyed. "I told you I would meet you at the Statue."
Evie was abashed. "Oh, I am sorry," she began, but he went on.
"Any letters, François?"
"Yes, M'sieur, on the desk."
"All right, clear out."
But François lingered. "M'sieur."