"A good bit out of patience with you, I gather," said Radwalader. "You've pretty well deserted her of late, haven't you?"
Andrew was drying his fingers, one by one, with somewhat exaggerated attention.
"One can't serve God and Mammon," he observed, with that new flippancy of his. "I won't stoop to the pettiness of fencing with you, Radwalader. You're not blind, I take it. You must know as well as I why I don't want to go to Poissy, and why, if I did, they wouldn't care to have me."
"Yes," said the other, "I suppose I do. If I didn't, it wouldn't be for lack of hearing you talked about. Gossip is tolerably busy with your name, these days."
"Gossip is rarely busy with one name," retorted Andrew dryly.
"Obviously. I didn't mean to ignore Mademoiselle Tremonceau: as you say, a lack of candour between us would be merely petty: but I wasn't quite sure how far you were prepared to concede me the license of a friend. These are ticklish subjects, even between intimates. I'm not inclined to meddle, but I've thought more than once of asking you if you thought the game worth while."
"I make a point of not thinking about it, one way or another," said Andrew. "Why should I? I've youth, health, money, the sunshine, Paris—and her. Why should I think? It's nobody's business but my own. Don't be a prig, Radwalader."
"God forbid!" ejaculated Radwalader. "I see I've been mistaken. I had an idea that it was somebody's business, other than yours—very much so, in fact. Of course, if it isn't—"
He stopped abruptly, and made a little signal of warning. An instant later Monsieur Vicot entered the room, and began to lay out Andrew's evening dress. His presence was an effective check upon further conversation along the direct line they had been pursuing, and, as Andrew hurried through his dressing, Radwalader plunged into generalities.
In another fifteen minutes Vicot opened the apartment door for them, and, as they passed out, closed it and stepped into the salon. The first object which met his eye was the miniature of Helen Vane, lying, face downward, on the table where Radwalader had left it. He picked it up and set it, upright, on the mantel, under the brilliant light of an electric bulb. Then, idly curious, he leaned forward and stared at it.