'Won't you take off your coat?'
'No, I must go directly—it is late.'
'But you will be melted.'
She rose with a little gesture of impatience. 'Very well then—help me, please.'
As he helped her off with the mantle, Andrea noticed that the scent was not the same as the familiar one of old. However, it was so delicious that it thrilled his every sense.
'You have a new scent,' he said with peculiar emphasis.
'Yes,' she answered simply, 'do you like it?'
Andrea still held the mantle in his hands. He buried his face in the fur collar which had been next her throat and her hair—'What is it called?' he inquired.
'It has no name.'
She re-seated herself in the arm-chair within the circle of the firelight. Her dress was of black lace, on which sparkled a mass of tiny jet and steel beads.