"Yes, isn't it? But I was at a dance close by, and I thought you would like to see my new frock. Do you think it is pretty?"
Philip merely gaped. He was all at sea. Peggy regarded him covertly for a moment, and spoke again.
"When a lady," she remarked reproachfully, "takes the trouble to climb up four flights of stairs to show a gentleman her new frock, it is usual for the gentleman to say something appreciative."
"I think it is beautiful," said Philip, feasting his eyes upon her.
Peggy, noticing this, decided to divert his attention from the wearer to the garment.
"And yet," she said, "if you were asked to describe it to-morrow, you would not be able to remember a single thing about it."
"I should remember every detail," replied Philip, "but I should not be able to describe it. There's a difference, you know."
"Try—now," suggested Peggy.
Philip meekly fell in with her mood. He knew enough of the character of the girl before him to be quite certain that she had not visited his flat at midnight in order to show him her new frock. She wanted him for something: perhaps she was in trouble. Well, she would tell him in due course. For the moment, extenuating irrelevancies were to be the order of the day.
"Miss Peggy Falconer," he began conscientiously, "looked charming in a white silk—"