She wore silver fox––just a stole and muff. Every feminine eye realised their worth.
When they were seated:
“I want,” she said gaily, “some consommé and a salad. You, of course, require the usual nourishment of the carnivora.”
But it seemed not. However, he ordered a high-ball, feeling curiously depressed. Then he addressed himself to making the hour agreeable, conscious, probably, that reparation was overdue.
Friends from youthful dancing-class days, these two had plenty to gossip about; and gradually he found himself drifting back into the lively, refreshing, piquant intimacy of yesterday. And realised that it was very welcome.
For, about this girl, always a clean breeze seemed to be blowing; and the atmosphere invariably braced him up.
And she was always responsive, whether or not agreeing with his views; and he was usually conscious of being at his best with her. Which means much to any man.
So she dissected her pear-salad, and he enjoyed his whitebait, and they chatted away on the old footing, quite oblivious of people around them.
Elorn was having a very happy time of it. People thought her captivating now––freckles, mouth and all––and every man there envied the fortunate young fellow who was receiving such undivided attention from a girl like this.