"You look in your proper place under a burning sky," observed Eustace poetically. "There is more of the gorgeous cactus about you than the English rose."
"Am I to take that as a compliment?"
"Most women would."
"I daresay, but then you see I'm unlike most women," replied Cleopatra, fanning herself slowly. "It's rather a good thing I think myself. What a horrible idea to be a replica of half a dozen of one's dearest enemies."
"Have you any enemies?" asked Eustace, looking keenly at her.
"Plenty! principally of my own sex I think. It doesn't trouble me, however, as I think it is rather a distinction than otherwise. A person without enemies must be without character. By-the-way, Mr. Gartney, I haven't asked you what you are doing in San Remo."
"What do you think?"
"It's too hot to answer riddles," replied Mrs. Veilsturm languidly. "I'm sure I can't tell. Restoring your health, writing a book, hiding from your friends. There, I've given you a choice of three answers."
"None of which are right. I've come over to attend to my cousin Errington."
"How devoted of you," said the lady ironically. "I was not aware you were so fond of your cousin as all that."