“Have you ever seen Monte Carlo?”
“No.”
“It is a vulgar world to the vulgar. But that delectable little world has an esoteric meaning. The sun shines, and it is easier to make love under a blue sky. And then, all those little towns on the edge of the blue sea, and the grey rock villages, and the adventures up mule-paths. Think of a mule-path, and pine woods, and sunlight, and a bottle of red wine.”
She laughed, but with a tremor of self-consciousness.
“It is useful to think of such things, just to realise how very far away they are.”
“Nothing is far away, when one has the magic carpet of gold. Have the courage to dream, and there you are.”
He got up, wandered round the room with a wavering glance at her, and then came across to the fire.
“Just think of ‘Monte’ and the sunlight, and the gay pagan life. It is worth experiencing. Dream of it for a week in London. Are you getting dry?”
He went down suddenly on one knee and felt her skirt, and in another moment he had touched one of her feet.
“The little white empress is warm. How would she like to walk the terraces at Monte Carlo?”