"I was looking for my lost and wasted youth, Miss Galloway," he said. "How are you, Prince? What a night!"
"A night for lovers," Mazaroff said, though Jessie could see that he was terribly annoyed at the interruption of their conversation. "Reminds one of birds and nightingales and rose bowers. Positively, I think of the days when I used to send valentines and love tokens to my many sweethearts."
"And what does it remind you of, Captain Hope?" Jessie asked.
"You always remind me of my friend Jessie Harcourt," Hope said. "The more I see of you, the more I see the likeness."
"The little shop-girl in Bond Street," Mazaroff burst out. "I have met her. Ah, yes."
"We are waiting for Captain Hope to tell us what the evening reminds him of," Jessie said hurriedly.
"Certainly," Captain Hope said. "Afterwards I may want to ask Prince Mazaroff a question. This reminds me of a night three years ago—a night in a lovely lane, with the moon rising at the end of it. Of course, there was a man and a woman in the lane, and they talked of the future. They picked some flowers, so as to be in tune with the picture. They picked dog roses——"
"'Your heart and mine' played out with the petals," Jessie laughed. "Do you know the other form of blowing the seed from a dandelion, only you use rose petals instead?"
There was a swift change on the face of Captain Hope. His face paled under the healthy tan as he looked quickly at Jessie. Their eyes met just for a moment—there was a flash of understanding between them. Mazaroff saw nothing, for he was lighting a cigar by the lip of the fountain. Jessie broke into some nonsense, only it was quite uncertain if she knew what she was saying. She appealed to Mazaroff, and as she did so she knocked the cigar that he had laid on the edge of the fountain so that it rolled down the steps on to the grass.
"How excessively clumsy of me!" Jessie cried. "Let me get it back for you, Prince Boris."