“It would do no harm,” said d'Alcacer with sudden carelessness; “a friend is always better than an enemy.”
“Always?” she repeated, meaningly. “But what could I say?”
“Some words,” he answered; “I should think any words in your voice—”
“Mr. d'Alcacer!”
“Or you could perhaps look at him once or twice as though he were not exactly a robber,” he continued.
“Mr. d'Alcacer, are you afraid?”
“Extremely,” he said, stooping to pick up the fan at her feet. “That is the reason I am so anxious to conciliate. And you must not forget that one of your queens once stepped on the cloak of perhaps such a man.”
Her eyes sparkled and she dropped them suddenly.
“I am not a queen,” she said, coldly.
“Unfortunately not,” he admitted; “but then the other was a woman with no charm but her crown.”