She said with an odd smile:
"Do you suppose that pleasant things have been so common in my life that only the unpleasant episode makes any impression on my memory?"
"To really remember me as I want you to, you ought to have had something unpardonable to forgive me."
"Perhaps I have!" she said, daringly; and slipped past him and down the narrow stairs, her loup-mask fluttering from her elbow.
At the foot of the stairs she turned, looking back at him over her bare shoulder:
"I've mortally offended at least three important men by hiding up there with you. That is conceding something to your attractions, isn't it?"
"Everything. Will you let me find you some supper—and let the mortally offended suitors sit and whistle a bit longer?"
"Poor suitors—they've probably been performing heel-tattoos for an hour.... Very well, then—I feel unusually shameless to-night—and I'll go with you. But don't be disagreeable to me if a neglected and glowering young man rushes up and drags me away by the back hair."
"Who for example?"
"Barent Van Dyne, for instance."