It did not seem to be the right occasion on which to enlighten her by stating that he was in business in order to make a living.
"And what are we Latins fitted for, then?" he asked lightly.
Her dark eyes were fixed upon him and her voice softened, "For life, pleasure—love."
For a moment his shadowy eyes narrowed and seemed to grow even darker as he returned her look. Then he shook his long body, as if to throw off the disturbing influence, and he tried to say matter-of-factly, "But our business is not so sordid as you seem to think. It is as much art as it is commerce. I want you to meet my associate and dear friend, John Dorning, Miss Van Zile. The very sight of him would convince you that Dorning and Son is no money-factory. I tell you—come with your aunt to tea with us at our apartment. You will enjoy seeing our little private art collection, and you will meet one of the best chaps in the world." He arose and wondered uneasily if he were making a respectable adieu. This woman confused him so. He tried to persuade himself that the invitation he had just uttered was merely a device for smoothing over his intended abrupt departure. But his conscience whispered he was scheming to see her again.
"I should be delighted," she smiled, and rose also. Together they sought Mrs. Palmer, detached her from the group she was beguiling with gossip, and Elise said, "Count Torriani has invited us to tea at his apartment, Aunt Helen." She turned to Rodrigo. "What was the day you mentioned, Count Torriani?"
NO MAN HAD GUESSED WHAT FIRE LAY WITHIN ELISE'S
COOL BODY.
"Why—Thursday. Yes, Thursday will be excellent. John will be there, Mrs. Palmer, and he will make his excuses to you in person."
"You may tell him I shall expect a very abject apology," fussed Mrs. Palmer, and really meant it, for she disliked having people take her invitations lightly.