"What a heavenly thing for a man to say about a woman! And my lips painted scarlet—and I a caissière de cabaret——" Her voice broke childishly; she sprang to her feet and stood looking through the starting tears at the last level rays of the sun.
Standing so, unstirring till the tears dried, she presently turned and resumed her chair; and, after a few moments' silence, she dropped her elbows on the table again and clasped her hands under her chin.
She said, not looking at either of the men:
"I have thought of becoming a nun. But it is too late. Cloisters make awkward inquiries and search records; no Sisterhood of any order I ever heard of would admit to a novitiate any girl who has served five years where I have served.... And so—until I saw you—I did not know what was to become of me——"
She lifted her grey eyes to Warner. They were starry with recent tears. Her chin rested on her clasped hands, her enchanted gaze on him.
Halkett was first to move and make an effort:
"Yes, it was perhaps time to cut away," he muttered. "Anything we can do—very glad, I'm sure."
"Certainly," said Warner. "There are a lot of agreeable young women in my class who will be interested to know you when they return from Ausone day after tomorrow——"
Philippa turned swiftly toward him:
"I do not wish any woman to know what I have been! You wouldn't tell them, would you?"