She had removed her veil, but he was not slow to perceive that she sat with her back to the long stretch of porch.
"Do you prefer this place to Armenonville or the Paillard at Pre Catelan, Miss Guile?" he inquired, quite casually, but with a secret purpose.
"No, it is stupid here, as a rule, and common. Still every one goes to the other places in the afternoon and I particularly wanted to be as naughty as possible, so I came here to-day."
"It doesn't strike me as especially naughty," he remarked.
"But it was very, very naughty before you and I were born, Mr. Schmidt. The atmosphere still remains, if one possesses a comprehensive imagination."
"I daresay," said he, "but the imagination doesn't thrive on tea. Those were the days of burgundy and a lot of other red things."
"One doesn't need to be in shackles, to expatiate on the terrors of the Bridge of Sighs," she said.
"Are you going to take me up to the park?"
"Yes. Into the Shadows."
"Oh, that's good! I'm sure my imagination will work beautifully when it isn't subdued by all these blue devils. I—Que voulez vous?" The question was directed rather sharply to a particularly deferential "blue devil" who stood at his elbow.