He crossed the room; a group of men parted with indifferent grace, and he leaned over Nina’s chair.
She was looking gay and free of care, and her eyes flashed a frank welcome to Thorpe. “I thought you were not coming to talk to me,” she said, with a little pout.
“Duty first,” he murmured. “Come over into the little reception-room and talk to me.”
“What am I to do with all these men?”
“Nothing.”
“You are very exacting—for a friend.”
“If you are a good friend, you will come. I am tired and bored.”
She rose, shook out her pretty pink skirts, nodded to her admirers, and walked off with Thorpe.
He laughed. “Perhaps they will console themselves with the reflection that as they have spoiled you, they should stand the consequences.”
They took possession of a little sofa in the reception-room. Another couple was in the window curve, and yet another opposite.