“No,” he replied, puzzled at her question. “Why do you ask?”
“Out of curiosity,” she stammered evasively. “I—I thought other business might, perhaps, have brought you here.”
Glancing round the apartment, and recognising the elegance with which it was furnished, he complimented her upon her taste.
“Yes,” she answered languidly. “This place suits me admirably. It is my home, and although I’m of a wandering disposition, and travel a good deal, I return here now and then to enjoy rest and obtain those comforts that are appreciable after hotel life. I am, perhaps, too cosmopolitan. Well, it is my failing. Since I was a girl, I have been accustomed to travel for pleasure, and I do so now in order to get life and variety, without which I don’t really believe I could exist.”
“Not if you were married?”
“Ah! possibly that would be different,” she said, with a rippling laugh. “I could then take some pleasure in my home, and my husband would be my companion, whereas at present I have only Nanette, my maid. You have little idea, Hugh, of the wearying monotony of the life of women who are alone in the world. We are utterly defenceless, and must either be prudes, and lead the existence of nuns, of, if we dare go about and enjoy ourselves, we are stigmatised as fast, and looked upon as undesirable and contaminating companions. I am unconventional; I care not a jot for the opinion of the world, good or bad; and, as a natural sequence, women—many of them notorious, though married—revile me unjustly.”
She uttered the words in all seriousness, and he felt compassion for her, as he knew well what she said was the truth.
“I can quite understand that your position is somewhat unenviable, Valérie; nevertheless, I have come here to-day to repeat the promise I made some time ago.”
“Your promise! Why—”
“I love you dearly and will marry you, providing you will consent,” he added, interrupting her.