“What, for instance, were you doing last night?”
“Last night? I dined at the Club, played auction and went home at a seemly hour.”
“Home? Where is that?”
“The Collingwood.”
“And what adventure befell you on the way—if any?”
“Adventure? I haven’t had an adventure since I left the Continent.”
“Sure?”
“Perfectly. I wish I had—to vary the monotony.”
She traced a diagram on the rug with the tip of her slipper.
“It depends on what you regard as an adventure,” she smiled. “I should think the episode of the cab, with what followed at your apartment, was very much in that line?”