“Gemma and Sanin in the thunderstorm.”
“Wait! You have Madame Polozov to come! What a creation! How old are you, Miss Winton?”
“Twenty-two.”
“You would be too young to appreciate that story if you were not YOU. But you know much—by instinct. What is your Christian name—forgive me!”
“Ghita.”
“Ghita? Not soft enough.”
“I am always called Gyp.”
“Gyp—ah, Gyp! Yes; Gyp!”
He repeated her name so impersonally that she could not be angry.
“I told your father I have had the pleasure of meeting you. He was very polite.”