“Why, Guy!” she exclaimed. “What a surprise this is!”
“And what a charming pleasure to me, Madeline,” he added, taking both her hands and holding them. “I thought you were in Paris; indeed, I thought you would never leave the City of Boulevards.”
“So did I, yet here I am; yet not for long, I trust, Guy, not for long.”
“America’s misfortune,” he whispered.
“Or fortune!” she laughed. “It’s merely a matter of viewpoint. To those who have knowledge of the comparatively recent past, Madeline Spencer may be a persona non. However—” with a shrug of her shapely shoulders and an indifferent lift of her fine hands. “Won’t you sit down, Mr. Harleston; that is, if you’re not afraid for your reputation. I assume that here you have a reputation to protect.”
“I’m quite sure that my reputation, whatever it be, won’t suffer by what you intimate!” he smiled, and handed her into a chair.
“You were much surprised to see me, n’est-ce pas?” she asked low, leaning close.
“Much more than much,” he replied confidentially.
“Honest?” she asked, still low and close.
“Much more than honest,” he answered. “It’s been a long time since we met.”