“Ah!” he exclaimed; and at that moment another caller entered the room, and he rose with eager politeness.
So it happened that Mademoiselle Brun could not see his face, and was left wondering what the exclamation meant.
Several other callers now appeared—persons of the Baroness de Mélide's own world, who had a hundred society tricks, and bowed or shook hands according to the latest mode. This was not Mademoiselle Brun's world, and she was not interested to hear the latest gossip from that hotbed of scandal, the Tuileries, nor did the ever-changing face of the political world command her attention. She therefore rose, and stiffly took her leave. De Vasselot accompanied them to the hall.
Denise paused in the entrance, and turned to him.
“Seriously,” she said, “do you advise me to accept this offer to sell Perucca?”
“I scarcely feel authorized to give you any advice upon the subject,” answered Lory, reluctantly. “Though, after all, we are neighbours.”
“Then—”
“Then, I should say not, mademoiselle. At all events, do nothing in haste. And, if I may ask it, will you communicate with me before you finally decide?”
They had come in an open cab, which was waiting on the shady side of the street.
“A young man who changes his mind very quickly,” commented Mademoiselle Brun, as they drove away.