"You have danced divinely," he said to her. "There is no longer a programme at La Coupole—there is only 'Florozonde.'"
She smiled the mysterious smile that she was cultivating. "What have you been doing with yourself, monsieur? I have not seen you all the week."
De Fronsac sighed expressively. "At my age one has the wisdom to avoid temptation."
"May it not be rather unkind to temptation?" she suggested, raising her marvellous eyes.
De Fronsac drew a step back. "Also I have had a great deal to do," he added formally; "I am a busy man. For example, much as I should like to converse with you now.—" But his resolution forsook him and he was unable to say that he had looked in only for a minute.
"Much as you would like to converse with me—?" questioned Florozonde.
"I ought, by rights, to be seated at my desk," he concluded lamely.
"I am pleased that you are not seated at your desk," she said.
"Because?" murmured de Fronsac, with unspeakable emotions.
"Because I have never thanked you enough for your interest in me, and I want to tell you that I remember." She gave him her hand. He held it, battling with terror.