"For a few weeks, perhaps, then I should be craving change and variety. 'The Light of the Harem' act isn't one that would satisfy me for long."
Then Pansy was sorry she had spoken. She remembered that he had admitted to having a harem, probably somewhere in this very house. But she had spoken with the idea of letting him see his case was hopeless; of saving him the pain of refusal.
"Considering how ill you've been, the 'Light of the Harem act,' as you call it, would be the best sort of life for you for some time to come."
"How do you know I've been ill?" she asked quickly.
Le Breton saw he had made a slip, but he covered it up smartly.
"Gossip told me," he said coolly.
There was silence for a time, during which he sat with his gaze on her.
"Why don't you smoke?" Pansy asked suddenly, anxious to get something between herself and him.
"When you're about I don't need any soothing syrups," he replied.
He was approaching dangerous ground again. To ward him off Pansy rose and went to the piano. Seating herself there, she wandered from one item to another, with scarcely a pause between.