"We are drifting from the point," I said. "You did me the honor to request an interview."
"Not exactly, my dear Armand. I sought admittance to my husband."
"By 'husband' you mean——?" I asked.
She smiled tolerantly. "By all means, keep up the play," she said; "but we shall save time and energy by assuming that, whenever I speak of my husband, I mean you."
"I take it, we may also assume that you did not seek such admission to me for the sole pleasure of looking at me?" I said.
"Quite right, Armand; though there was a time—and not so long ago—-when we both were more than glad to look at each other.—And, maybe, I have not changed." And she leaned forward and smiled with the frankness of a sweet-faced child.
I made a gesture of repugnance.
"For Heaven's sake, madame, lay aside this simulated sentiment and be good enough to come to the point."
"The point?—the point?" she replied absently. "True, I was forgetting—the sight of you, dear, always stirs me so. I came here very angry with you, and, now, I have almost forgiven you."
I put my finger on the electric button, and Colonel Moore responded.