“Let’s go out somewhere,” said Rosaleen’s young man. It was the classic suggestion, and they all agreed joyfully.
“I’ll take you all to the Brevoort for supper,” said the magnificent Lawrence.
Rosaleen was passing about a basket of cigarettes, and she happened at that instant to be standing at his elbow. And she said, with polite and surprised joy:
“How nice!”
He turned and looked at her, fixed his monocle and stared at her.
“I’d forgotten all about you!” he said. “What are you doing?”
“Having a lovely time!” she told him, with a smile.
“You look very pretty,” he said. “Very sweet....”
And she fancied, half ashamed of the fancy, that again his face changed as it had done that afternoon in his studio.
He bent his lordly head.