The clock marked two minutes after the half-hour when she arrived, looking radiantly beautiful, enveloped in magnificent furs, both hands outstretched as she hurried across the hall.
“Oh, Mistaire Aron, what a surprise to see you ’ere!”
“Well,” he smiled his little amused smile as he offered her his open cigarette-case, “it’s Thursday, isn’t it?”
“Of course it ees Thursday, but nevaire did I think to see you, all the same; it was late at night when you ask me, after the party — I thought the champagne ’ad gone to your ’ead!”
“Ner — not the champagne!” said Simon, with a quick look.
She laughed delightedly. “Silly boy! Next you will be telling me that you ’ave fallen in love with me!”
“Well,” said the cautious Simon, “I don’t mind telling you — I almost think I have!”
“You almost think, eh? That is rich; nevaire in all my life ’ave I met a man who only thinks ’e ees in love with me!”
Simon drank in her superb dark loveliness. “What a woman!” he thought, and then: “Good thing I’m not given to falling in love, or I should be making a fool of myself! What about a spot of lunch,” he said, getting up from his chair and smiling blandly into her eyes.
“Lunch — yes, but a spot — what ees that?” she asked, turning and leading the way to the restaurant.