"You may take off your gloves," she countered. "I know that you must feel uncomfortable with them on. To clasp one's own hands is a kind of personal sympathy. Try it."
He drew them off, not ungracefully, and tucked them away. He spread his thin brown muscular fingers a few times, then folded his arms.
"You look quite Napoleonic in that pose."
"If this were only Elba and not St. Helena! I should be coming back to you some day."
"I shall credit that against the partridges."
This time her laughter was relaxed and joyful. And somehow he felt more at ease. He was growing accustomed to the mask. He stretched his legs and fingered his nether lip.
"Have you not somewhere an invisible cloak?"
"I had one that night, which nature lent me," she answered readily. "I was so invisible to you that I heard the policeman call out your name. I thank you for insisting that I was not a chorus-lady."
Here was a revelation which accounted for many things. "I haven't been very fortunate so far in this adventure."
"That is rank ingratitude. I am of the opinion that fortune has highly favored you."