“I’ll promise—until I see you.” She lowered her voice—“Are you there, Mr. Harleston?”
“I’m here—since I can’t be with you there,” he replied.
“Assuredly not! I’m not exactly in receiving attire. Meanwhile the morning—and Madame Brunette’s doings. Good-night, Mon camarade.”
XIX—Marston
At nine o’clock the next morning, Marston tapped gently on the door of Madeline Spencer’s apartment, and was immediately admitted by the demure maid; who greeted him with a smile, which he repaid with a kiss—several of them, indeed—and an affectionate and pressing arm to her shapely and slender waist.
“I suppose monsieur wants to see my mistress,” said she.
“Now that I’ve seen you, yes, little one,” Marston returned, with another kiss.
“Have you seen me, monsieur?”
“Not half long enough, my love; but business before pleasure. There’s another now, so run along and do your devoir.”
She fetched him a tiny slap across his cheek, for which she was caught and made to suffer again; then she wriggled loose, and, with a flirty backward kick at him, disappeared through the inner doorway.