She smiled. “I shall.”
I protested. Captain Vauvenarde had put himself outside the pale. He was not fit to associate with decent women. What object could she have in meeting him?
“I want to judge for myself,” she replied.
“Judge what? Surely not whether he is eligible as a husband!”
“Yes,” she said.
“But, my dear Lola,” I cried, “the notion is as crazy as any of Anastasius Papadopoulos's. Of course, as soon as he learns that you're a rich woman, he'll want to live with you, and use your money for his gaming-hell.”
“I am going to meet him,” she said quietly.
“I forbid it.”
“You're too late, dear friend. I wrote him a letter before dinner and sent it to the Cercle Africain by special messenger. I also wrote to Anastasius. I asked them both to see me to-morrow morning. That's why I've been so gay this evening.”
At the sight of my blank face she laughed, and with one of her movements rose from her chair. I rose too.