“You—you are not—not married?â€� she exclaimed, for a moment startled.
“No.�
She hitched her chair forward, nearer to him.
“Put down your cigar,� she said to him. “It is nearly consumed, and you may begin another one presently.�
He obeyed her. She reached out and drew the taboret aside, and then brought her chair up close beside his, so that she could reach out and take one of his hands—which she did; and he made no effort to resist.
“You like the touch of my hands,� she said. It was not a question; it was an assertion.
“Certainly, madam. A man is less than a man who does not appreciate contact with a beautiful woman; and you are that, without question.�
“Thank you.�
“Oh, I did not offer you a compliment. The fact is self-evident.�