"Are you not ashamed," she said, severely, "to come battering at my door at this hour of the day?"
"Abjectly."
They exchanged a brief handshake; she seated herself on the arm of a sofa; he stood before the unlighted fireplace, looking at her with a half smiling half curious air which made her laugh outright.
"Bien! C'est moi, monsieur," she said. "Me voici! C'est moi-même!"
"I believe you are real after all," he admitted.
"Do I seem different?"
"Yes—and no."
"How am I different?"
"Well, somehow, last night, I got the notion that you were younger, thinner—and not very real——"
"Are you presuming to criticise my appearance last night?" she asked with mock indignation. "Because if you are, I proudly refer you to the enlightened metropolitan morning press."