She looked him over, from head to foot, and saw that he was slender, with an almost childish beauty, as he stood there in his modest suit of black. Then she thought about having nothing to do, that night, and how horribly bored she was going to be.
"Why not stay here and have a bite with me?" she questioned.
"What for?" he demanded.
"What a question! Why, so we shan't have to separate, so soon."
"I—well, all right. Anything you like. But I'm afraid I'll bother you."
"What an idiot you are! Quite the contrary. Your conversation will amuse me. You'll see how quickly I'll be good-natured, again."
She got up with a swift, supple movement that made her petticoats rustle and that infused a perfume of violets through the room. She pressed an electric button. A maid appeared.
"Tell Leonor," she ordered, "that I have a guest. Señor Enrique is going to have supper with me."
She approached a mirror, to arrange her hair. She seemed happy, transfigured with joy.
"Have you seen the play they're giving at the Princess Theater to-night?" asked she.