But she carried it all
without self-consciousness. It was as natural to her as gay plumage to
a bird-of-paradise.
She gave him her hand to kiss, and then laughed and shook hands instead
with an exaggerated manliness.
"I forget," she said. "It is a bad 'abit. You see. I keep my
promise. I make ze return call. And 'ow kind of you to see me."
"It didn't occur to you that I might refuse," he told her.
"No, that's true. I never thought about it. You 'ave a leetle time
for me, _hein_?"
"About ten minutes," he said.
He assumed a very professional attitude on the other side of his table.
He wanted to nonplus and disconcert her, if such a thing were possible.
Now that his first involuntary amusement was over he felt a return of
the old malignant dislike. She had cost him Cosgrave's friendship, and
he wanted to hurt her--to get underneath that armour of soulless
good-humour. "I knew that you'd turn up one day or other," he said.
She looked at him with a rather wistful surprise.
"'Ow clever of you! You knew? Don't I look well, _hein_? I feel
well--quite all right. But I say to myself: '_Voyons_--'alf an hour
with nothing to do. I pay that cross doctor a visit.' I would 'ave
come before, but I 'ave been so busy. We re'earse 'Mademoiselle
Pantalonne,' ze first night to-morrow. You come? I send you a ticket."
"Thanks. That form of entertainment wouldn't entertain me--except
pathologically. And if I went to the theatre I'd rather leave my
profession outside.
Pages:
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315