Lady Jim of Curzon Street: A Novel

by Fergus Hume

The diplomatist became unworthy of the name, through sheer irritation. "Can we not drop our masks, madame?"

"I never knew that we wore such things," said Lady Jim, lightly. "I am sure I do not. Why should I?"

"But you sent for me."

Leah placed her elbows on the table, and the tips of her fingers together. "I did, to ask you for some letters to nice people in Paris."

"Ah!" His face lighted up. "You go to Paris?"

"My good friend, have I not said so? And the letters?"

"I shall be delighted;" Aksakoff was now beginning to understand the necessity of reading between the remarks. "But are letters necessary? I hope to be in Paris myself next week."

"How delightful! You will be able to amuse me. Do not look shocked. I assure you I only wish to drown my grief."

"Of course," assented Aksakoff, dryly; then added, with a significance she ignored: "Do you go alone to Paris?"

"Oh, dear me, no. Miss Tallentire goes with me. A charming girl who is engaged to my cousin, the Rev. Lionel Kaimes. We stay for a week at the Hotel Henri Trois, Champs Élysées. Very quietly, you know, as I am still mourning."