“And if you would do me the honor,” he added, taking courage from the one word she had allowed herself, “we would like very much to have you and—of course—your—Madame—A-ah—” he floundered, hopelessly.
“Madame Aoi,” said the girl, distantly.
He could not have told how he had happened to invite them to dinner. Certainly it wouldn’t do to have them come at once. There was the attorney to be considered—Mr. Knowles—who knew nothing of his visit, and might, after all, disapprove of it.
“We’ll send you word just when to come,” he concluded, lamely.
He saw her lip curl disdainfully, and guessed aright that she was thinking him atrociously uncouth and rude in delivering so ambiguous an invitation. She said:
“We are ten million times grateful—but we don’ can come—”
She paused ominously a moment, then slightly moving backward into the hall, she said:
“That’s all your business—yes?”
“Yes,” he said, confounded.
She closed the sliding-doors between and left him standing there facing it without.