She uttered a little high-pitched laugh, and got up.
“Don’t be too long,” she said to me carelessly as I opened the dining-room door for her. “I want to sing ‘Ohé Charmette’ to you.
“I won’t be long,” I answered, thinking what exquisite eyes she had.
She turned, and went out in her delicious, thin way. No wonder she had made skeletons the rage in London. When I came back to the dinner-table Inley was sitting with both his brown hands clenched on the cloth. His black eyes—inherited from his dead mother, who had been one of the Neapolitan aristocracy—were glittering.
“What is it, Nino?” I asked as I sat down.
We had been such intimate friends that even my five years’ absence abroad had not built up a barrier between us.
“I wonder if it is Miss Bassett?” he said, looking at me earnestly.
“But was she a great friend of yours?” I said. “If Lady Inley’s description of her is accurate, I can hardly imagine so.”
“Vere doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
“Then Miss Bassett——”