She pressed things on him; she herself filled up his glass; she was as merry as possible, and talkative and good-humored.
"Just to think we've known each other so long, and you've never been in my house before!" she said. "That's a portrait of my younger sister you're looking at—isn't she pretty? It's a pastel—Miss Corkran's. Of course she is not allowed to sit up for me; only Jim does that; he keeps me company at supper-time, for I couldn't sit down all by myself, could I, in the middle of the night? Oh, yes, you must have some more. I know gentlemen are afraid of champagne in a house looked after by a woman; but that's all right; that was sent me as a Christmas present by Mr. Lehmann."
"It is excellent," Lionel assured her, "but I must keep my head clear if I am to find my way into Park Lane; after that, it will be easy enough getting home."
"But there's Jim's room," she exclaimed.
"Oh, no, thank you," he said; "I shall get down there without any trouble."
And then she went to a cabinet that formed part of a book-case, and returned with a cigar-box in her hand.
"I am not so sure of these," she said. "They are some I got when papa was last in town, and he seemed to think them tolerable."
"Oh, but I sha'n't smoke, thanks; no, no, I couldn't think of it!" he protested. "You'll soon be coming down again to breakfast."
"To please me, Mr. Moore," she said, somewhat authoritatively. "I assure you there's nothing in the world I like so much as the smell of cigars."
What was she going to say next? But he took a cigar and lit it, and again she filled up his glass, which he had not emptied; and they set to talking about the Royal Academy of Music, while she nibbled Lychee nuts, and her brother Jim subsided into a French novel. Miss Burgoyne was a sharp and shrewd observer; she had had a sufficiently varied career, and had come through some amusing experiences. She talked well, but on this evening, or morning, rather, always on the good-natured side; if she described the foibles of any one with whom she had come in contact, it was with a laugh. Lionel was inclined to forget that outer world of thick, cold fog, so warm and pleasant was the bright and pretty room, so easily the time seemed to pass.