“You will not be so unkind?” he said; and his words held a plea. She answered it by seating herself.
“Well?”
At the interrogation he smiled.
“Will you not allow me, Madame, to introduce myself?”
“But, Monsieur Incognito, consider; I have remembered you best because you have not done so; it was a novelty. But all those people whose names were spoken to me this evening––pouf!” and she blew a feathery spray of fern from her palms, “they have all drifted into oblivion like that. Do you wish, then, to be presented and––to follow them?”
“I refuse to follow them there––from you.”
His tones were so low, so even, so ardent, that she looked startled and drew her breath quickly.
“You are bold, Monsieur,” and though she strove to speak haughtily she was too much of a girl to be severe when her eyes met his.
“Why not?” he asked, growing bolder as she grew more timid. “You grant me one moment out of your life; then you mean to close the gates against me––if you can. In that brief time I must condense all that another man should take months to say to you. I have been speaking to you daily, however, for six weeks and––”
“Monsieur! Six weeks?”