"Never mind," said Lewis, crossly. "Give me anything you've got; a lettuce if you like ..."
Lewis had been at Madame Magnac's for an hour, stretched on a divan; she went on, sitting by him, in the same airy tone of voice:
"Everyone says you've got a charming wife, Lewis; like a Ravenna mosaic.... So you want me to be the last person to know her? I am sure I shall like her very much."
"That's too much already."
"Come, Lewis.... Besides it appears that she is a marvellous business man. Do let me know her."
"Later on."
She murmured close to his ear, laughing:—
"After all, perhaps it would be an easy way to fix things up?"
[X]
LEWIS left Madame Magnac and went home on foot to disperse various scents which seem to have soaked into his skin. He was very late for dinner. Irene was stretched out in front of the fire, her head in her hands. Lewis thought she was crying, and took hold of her fingers. No, Irene never shed tears, but she was obviously forcing down her sorrow.