"Good-evening," he said, after enveloping himself in a cloud of smoke. She did not answer, but evidently he was not one to be rebuffed.
"Your friend, Mistare Pooh, he is sharp! My! he see all," he said affably.
This drew a reply.
"You are quite right," she said. "He sees all, or nearly all. Do you mean because he saw you pick up the lace?"
"Now—how you know it was lace?" asked the Italian, turning full upon her. "You sitting here, you couldn't see it was lace so far—no eyes could see that."
This frankness confused the lady a moment; then she laughed a little, for he had supplied her with a retort.
"Perhaps I see all, too, like my friend."
There was a silence, but the Italian was apparently waiting only to rehearse his English.
"You know Mr. Glyn—yes?" he said.
"No."