'Do you hate music too?' she asked.
'No, indeed! I could listen to you for ever. But my father is quite different. I believe he hears half a note higher with one ear than with the other. At all events the effect of music on him is dreadful. He behaves like a cat in a thunderstorm. If you want to please him, talk to him about old bindings. Next to shooting he likes bindings better than anything in the world—in fact he's a capital bookbinder himself.'
At this juncture Mustapha Pasha's pale and spiritual face appeared between the curtains of the small room, and he interrupted the conversation by a single word.
'Bridge?'
Lady Maud was on her feet in an instant.
'Rather!'
'Do you play?' asked the Ambassador, turning to Margaret, who rose more slowly.
'Very badly. I would rather not.'
The diplomatist looked disappointed, and she noticed his expression, and suspected that he would feel himself obliged to talk to her instead of playing.
'I'm very fond of looking on,' she added quickly, 'if you will let me sit beside you.'