“Lunch?” she said.
Instantly he caught her hesitation, her dubiety.
“It isn’t convenient, perhaps?”
“Perfectly, only—only the Marchesino is coming.”
“To-morrow—To lunch?”
The hardness of the Marchesino’s voice was echoed now in the voice of Artois. There was antagonism between these men. Hermione realized it.
“Yes. I invited him this evening.”
There was a slight pause. Then Artois said:
“I’ll come some other day, Hermione. Well, my friend, au revoir, and bon voyage to the island.”
His voice had suddenly become cold, and he signed to his boatman.