“No,” he answered.
“Well,” she said, “will you come to dinner?”
“Mrs. Winnie—” he protested.
“Please come,” she said. “Please!”
“I hate to have you—” he began.
“I wish you to come!” she said, a third time.
So he answered, “Very well.”
He went; and when he entered the house, the butler led him to the elevator, saying, “Mrs. Duval says will you please come upstairs, sir.” And there Mrs. Winnie met him, with flushed cheeks and eager countenance.
She was even lovelier than usual, in a soft cream-coloured gown, and a crimson rose in her bosom. “I’m all alone to-night,” she said, “so we’ll dine in my apartments. We’d be lost in that big room downstairs.”
She led him into her drawing-room, where great armfuls of new roses scattered their perfume. There was a table set for two, and two big chairs before the fire which blazed in the hearth. Montague noticed that her hand trembled a little, as she motioned him to one of them; he could read her excitement in her whole aspect. She was flinging down the gauntlet to her enemies!