“What?”
“I think he was German. He had only one eye. He asked your name.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him. Then he went away.”
Barres shrugged:
“Somebody who wants to sell artists’ materials,” he concluded. Then he looked at the girl: “So you’re lonely, are you? Where are your three cats? Aren’t they company for you?”
“Yes....”
“Well, then,” he said gaily, “why not give a party for them? That ought to amuse you, Dulcie.”
The child still smiled; Barres walked on past her a pace or two, halted, turned irresolutely, arrived at some swift decision, and came back, suddenly understanding that he need seek no further—that he had discovered his guest of the evening at his very elbow.