“To know what?”
“About my slippers.”
“Oh, curiosity,” he shrugged.
She tilted her face further over on her white forearm, and her eyes came round to his.
“I thought you hadn’t any?” she said.
His “Only about trifles” was meant unkindly; but she refused to take offense.
“I suppose that’s a compliment to my number threes,” she smiled; “so I’d explain the letters on them if I could; but they came from Veynes with the fan, so I can only guess—perhaps they stand for the motto of his house.”
“Probably,” he assented, grimly. “Regina ex vulgo, or something of the sort. Are you going to adopt it?”
“To adopt what?”
“The motto of his house.”