General Carden turned and saw that she was watching him. A faint rose colour tinged the ivory of Anne’s face.
“I was wondering,” she said, explanatory, “where it was that I had seen you before.”
General Carden smiled, a gay old smile. “I can tell you where I have seen you, though whether you have deigned to notice me is quite another matter.”
“Yes?” queried Anne the fan fluttering to and fro.
“I have frequently seen you driving in the Park,” said General Carden. “You in your carriage, I in my car.”
“Yes?” mused Anne, still doubtful.
“You do not remember?” asked General Carden. He was frankly disappointed.
“On the contrary, I remember perfectly. I confess I had forgotten the fact till you mentioned it. Yet somehow it does not quite explain—” She broke off.
“Explain?” asked General Carden.
Anne laughed. “Explain the quite absurd notion that I have actually spoken to you before. Something in your manner, your speech, seems almost familiar. I fancied I must have known you—not intimately, of course, but slightly.”