"Thank you, no!" she said icily. "I'm afraid I don't appreciate your special brand of conversation!"
He looked at her, startled—her meaning gradually dawning on him. But, before he could reply, Busby had risen, sounding his knife against his plate.
"Next course, ladies will please chassé! Gentlemen, make sure of your jewelry!"
Doré rose, and, as she did so, addressing the butler who drew out her chair, said:
"In order that Mr. Lindaberry may feel quite at home, do please place a bottle on each side of him!"
She made him an abrupt mocking bow, and went to her place past Massingale, next to the Comte de Joncy, while Lindaberry, flushing, was left as best he could to face the laughter and clapping of hands that greeted her sally.
The Comte de Joncy had risen courteously, studying her keenly from his pocketed, watery blue eyes, seating her with marked ceremony, too keen an amateur of the sex not to feel a difference in her.
"Bravo!" he said, laughing, and in a confidential tone: "Madame de Staël could not have answered better!"
The allusion was not in her ken, but she felt the compliment.
"Are you what? Wolf in sheep's clothing, or sheep—"