Philip cocked one eyebrow at the dainty Vicomte.
"What more would you have?"
"I would know of what like she is."
"She?"
"The lady to whom your heart is lost."
"That's an hundred she's," replied Philip airily. "And they are all different!"
"I dare swear I could enlighten M. de Ravel," drawled Bancroft.
All eyes turned his way. Philip seated himself beside Mademoiselle. He was smiling faintly.
"Proceed, mon ami. Who is this lady that I have forgotten?"
"Forgotten? Oh, come now, Jettan!"