Harleston nodded to Mrs. Spencer and to Snodgrass, then spoke to Carpenter and invited him over.
“I don’t know if you will remember me, Mrs. Clephane,” said Carpenter, coming across. “I met you several years ago in Paris.”
“Yes, indeed, Mr. Carpenter, I remember you!” Mrs. Clephane replied.
“Anything?” Harleston asked, without moving his lips.
“Nothing. I was here when they arrived,” Carpenter replied in the same manner—and went back to his table.
“Who is the woman with Harleston?” Snodgrass asked Mrs. Spencer. “I’ve never seen her.”
“A Mrs. Clephane,” Madeline Spencer replied. “She’s very good-looking, isn’t she?”
“I’m perfectly satisfied with the lady immediately in my fore,” he smiled. “I don’t run to blondes—”
“When you’re with a brunette!” she smiled back.
“I don’t run to anyone when I’m with you,” he replied with quiet earnestness, leaning toward her across the table.