Deulin then turned to where Miss Cahere had been standing. But she had moved away a few paces, nearer to a candelabrum, under which she was now standing, and a young officer in full German uniform was openly admiring her, with a sort of wonder on his foolish, Teutonic face.
“Ah! I expected you had forgotten me,” she said, when Deulin presented himself.
“Believe me—I have tried,” he replied, with great earnestness; but the complete innocence of her face clearly showed that she did not attach any deep meaning to his remark.
“You must see so many people that you cannot be expected to remember them all.”
“I do not remember them all, mademoiselle—only a very, very few.”
“Then tell me, who is that lovely girl you bowed to as you came into the room?”
“Is there another in the room?” inquired Deulin, looking around him with some interest.
“Over there, with the fair hair, dressed in black.”
“Ah! talking to Cartoner. Yes. Do you think her beautiful?”
“I think she is perfectly lovely. But somehow she does not look like one of us, does she?” And Miss Cahere lowered her voice in a rather youthful and inexperienced way.