Hurrying away, he was back in a moment, followed by a dainty figure dressed in clinging white satin. Lotus had made herself particularly charming this evening, Don told himself. The pure simplicity of her low cut gown, made her seem even younger than her actual twenty years.
Slipping the expensive evening wrap from her shoulders, she flicked it carelessly across the headwaiter’s arm.
“Come back in a few minutes, Maurice!” she said, as the man bowed himself away.
Turning to Don, she gave him a long, serious look. Her eyes, Don thought, were like great wells of darkness. As the seconds ticked past, and she did not speak, he felt a tiny shiver of doubt. Was it possible, he wondered, that the girl had already pierced his masquerade?
All at once she came closer, with a low musical laugh.
“Always mysterious, aren’t you, André?” she said, taking both his hands. “Every time I meet you here, it is the same! You stand looking at me so silent and grave, until I feel like a silly little girl. But in the end I always succeed in making you laugh and be silly with me, don’t I, André?”
With some difficulty Don held his serious pose. Lotus’ teasing laughter and girlish sweetness were harder to resist than he had expected.
“Sit down, child!” he said soberly, as he moved to pull out her chair. “A strange thing has happened since I last saw you. You say I am the same André. But it is hardly the truth!”
As he sat down across the table he saw that the girl’s cheeks had gone white as her dress. Her eyes, wide with sudden alarm, seemed about to overflow with tears.
“I—I don’t understand you!” she whispered faintly.