"Aunt seems to be asleep, but she isn't," she declared. "She is really a
very efficient chaperon. Talk to me about China, please, and tell me
about your _Dragon_ airship. Is it true that you have silver baths, and
that Gauteron painted the walls of your dining salon?"
"One is in the air five days on the way over," he answered
indifferently. "It is necessary that one's surroundings should be
agreeable. Perhaps some day I may have the honour of showing it to you.
In the darkness, and when she is docked, there is little to be seen."
She looked at him curiously.
"You knew that I was there, then?"
"Yours was the first face I saw when I descended from the car," he told
her. "You stood apart, watching, and I wondered why. I knew, too, that
you would be at the Ritz to-night. That is why I came there. As a rule,
I do not dine in public."
"How could you possibly know that I was going to be there?" Maggie asked
curiously.
"I sent a gentleman of my suite to look through the names of those who
had booked tables," he answered. "It was very simple."
"It was only a chance that the table was reserved in my name," she
reminded him.
"It was chance which brought us together," he rejoined. "It is chance
under another name to which I trust in life."
For the first time in her life, in her relations with the other sex,
Maggie felt a queer sensation which was almost fear. She felt herself
losing poise, her will governed, her whole self dominated.
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