“I? Why?”
“You are the last man I should expect the usual small talk from.”
“Small talk? Heavens knows I have none of that. Girls used to talk my head off in self-defence. I merely said what I thought. What did you expect me to talk about?”
“Oh—mines, I suppose.” Again, to her surprise, his face lit up as if by an inner and jealously hidden torch. But he said soberly:
“Well, there is no more interesting subject. Never has been since the world began. Where shall we find a seat?”
The waltz was over. The chairs were filling. Young couples were flitting toward the embowered corners.
“Let’s go outside,” he said abruptly.
“What? On the street? And nobody goes out of doors from a ballroom in June.”
“Good reason for going. Come with me.”
He led her to the cloak-room. “Get your wrap,” he said.