"Or are you a little bit flattered?"
"Both, perhaps."
"A divinely complex condition. Tell me about the rehearsal."
They plunged into a discussion on music. Mrs. Shiffney was a past mistress in the art of subtle flattery, when she chose to be. And she always chose to be, in the service of her caprices. She understood well the vanity of the artistic temperament. She even understood its reverse side, which was strongly developed in Claude. Her efforts were dedicated to the dual temperament, and beautifully. The discussion was long and animated, lasting all through dinner to the time of Turkish coffee. Claude forgot his fatigue, and Mrs. Shiffney almost forgot her caprice. She became genuinely interested in the discussion merely as a discussion. Her sincere passion for art got the upper hand in her. And this made her the more delightful. The evening fled and its feet were winged.
"I was going to a party at Eve Inness's," she said, when half-past ten chimed in the clock on her writing-table. "But I'll give it up."
Claude sprang to his feet.
"Really you must not. I must go. I must really. I know I need any amount of sleep to make up arrears."
"You don't look sleepy."
"How could I, in New York?"
"We don't need to sleep here. Sit down again. Eve Inness is quite definitely given up."