The moment their eyes met, she signalled a glad smile and advanced with
hands extended.
"Why, Guy!" she exclaimed. "What a surprise this is!"
"And what a charming pleasure to me, Madeline," he added, taking both
her hands and holding them. "I thought you were in Paris; indeed, I
thought you would never leave the City of Boulevards."
"So did I, yet here I am; yet not for long, I trust, Guy, not for long."
"America's misfortune," he whispered.
"Or fortune!" she laughed. "It's merely a matter of viewpoint. To those
who have knowledge of the comparatively recent past, Madeline Spencer
may be a _persona non_. However--" with a shrug of her shapely shoulders
and an indifferent lift of her fine hands. "Won't you sit down, Mr.
Harleston; that is, if you're not afraid for your reputation. I assume
that here you have a reputation to protect."
"I'm quite sure that my reputation, whatever it be, won't suffer by
what you intimate!" he smiled, and handed her into a chair.
"You were much surprised to see me, _n'est-ce pas_?" she asked low,
leaning close.
"Much more than much," he replied confidentially.
"Honest?" she asked, still low and close.
"Much more than honest," he answered. "It's been a long time since we
met.
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