"She told me so."
"Oh! la! la! la! She told you so, eh? Don't you know that women can say anything?"
"Never mind, Ben, you are not my keeper. This is a personal matter."
Edward knew that his friend was an enemy of womankind, and therefore he saw fit to close the discussion as soon as possible.
They left their baggage in the check-room and went to a cheap hotel where they had lunch, and afterward the Russian asked Edward about the program for the afternoon.
"My program is already made," said Edward. "I shall call on Miss King." They walked together in the direction of her home, where they parted, after having agreed to meet later at the hotel.
When Edward rang the doorbell his heart was beating so hard that he could bear it, and when the colored servant came to take his card, he felt as if walking in a dream. The servant led him into a beautiful boudoir, where he sat waiting for Miss King, ho soon came in.
"I am so happy you came," she said as she entered.
Edward murmured something about being very happy himself, as he held her hand in his. Everything in the room was exceedingly rich and artistic. In one corner a Venus de Milo seemed to be smiling at him, while from another corner a Cupid was apparently ready to shoot at him. It was more luxury than Edward had ever thought of, and the whole thing was like a dream.
"Where are her father and mother?" he asked himself, and she seemed to guess his thoughts, and said: "I am Chez-moi, not Chez-nous; my family lives in Montreal, and I must tell you I am an actress."