"Will you not have one?" He moved the case still nearer to the line.
She reached out a firm round white arm.
"One moment," he said; "let us understand each other thoroughly."
"What do you mean?" her arm poised in mid-air. "To touch a cigarette you must cross the line to this side."
She withdrew her arm slowly.
"I shall not smoke. If I crossed the line I should establish a dangerous precedent. A good stroke. Now, the idea. I must have that idea."
He blew the smoke toward the lamp; it sailed over the flaming wicks and darted into the dark beyond.
"The mirror over the piano confused me. I had seen it somewhere before. Then, there was that old copy of Botticelli. The frame was familiar, but I could not place it. This stein, however!" He laughed; the laughter was boyish, even triumphant.
"Well, that stein?" She was now leaning across the table, her fingers tense on the cloth.
"I bought that stein two seasons ago. This is the Sandfords' place, and you are the veiled lady who has been riding Mrs. Sandford's favorite hunter in the park."