“Nothing,” she said, smiling.
“And you’re still Miss Cartwright?”
“Only Miss Cartwright,” she corrected.
“Good,” he said, looking at her steadily. “By George, it doesn’t seem a year since that week in Paris. What made you disappear just as we were having such bully times?”
“I had to come back to America suddenly. I had only an hour to catch the boat. I explained all that in my note though. Didn’t you even take the trouble to read it?”
He looked at her amazed. “I never even received it.” There was a touch of relief in his voice. “So you sent me a note! Do you know, I thought you’d dropped me, and I tell you I hit with an awful crash.”
“I sent it by a porter and even gave him a franc,” she smiled. “I ought to have given him five.”
“I’d willingly have given him fifty,” Denby said earnestly. “It wasn’t nice to think that I’d been dropped like that.”
“And I thought you’d dropped me,” she said.
“I should say not,” he exclaimed. “I was over here six months ago and I did try to see you, but you were at Palm Beach. I can’t tell you how often I’ve sent you telepathic messages,” he added whimsically. “Ever get any of ’em?”