To begin with, he was
rather shy with ladies as a rule, and had not learnt a trick of
_entreprenance_. It took him quite a while to know one well
enough to even talk at ease. And yet here he was, embarked upon an
adventure which savoured of the Arabian Nights.
He came forward and sat down, and he could feel the pulse beating in
his throat. It all seemed perfectly natural at the time, but
afterwards he wondered how she had known his name was Paul--and how it
had all come to pass.
"For three days you have thought of me, Paul--is it not so?" she said,
half closing her lids.
But he could only blurt out "Yes!" while he devoured her with his
eyes.
"We are both--how shall I say--drifting--holiday-making--trying to
forget. And we must talk a little together, _n'est-ce pas_? Tell
me?"
"Oh, yes!" said Paul.
"You are beautiful, you know, Paul," she went on. "So tall and
straight like you English, with curly hair of gold. Your mother must
have loved you as a baby."
"I suppose she did," said Paul.
"She is well? Your mother, the stately lady?"
"Very well--do you know her?" he asked, surprised.
"Long ago I have seen her, and I knew you at once, so like you
are--and to your uncles, especially the Lord Hubert."
"Uncle Hubert is a rotter!"
"A--rotter?" inquired the lady.
Pages:
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43