"I'm a perfect fool," she said. But she looked like an angel there in the vague light of the windy sky, her splendid hair about her face and shoulders, and her little naked feet drawn close under the hem of her silvery chamber-robe which she was belting in with rapid fingers.
"Well?" she said, looking up at me.
"I found something which belongs to you," said I, quietly.
"What is it?"
"A silver filigree button."
"Oh. Where did you find it, Michael?"
"In the dressing-room of King Ferdinand."
There was a pause—a second's hesitation. "Well," she said, smiling, "you've a clean mind, Michael. Also you have a sense of humor. What do you infer from your very immoral discovery?"
"You might have lost the button this afternoon while airing his apartment."
"Thank you," she whispered laughingly.