An unmistakably
English voice addressed him.
"Is it anything very interesting? Do show me!"
He looked up. Mademoiselle Flossie, pleased with his appearance, had
paused on her way down the room.
"Come and sit down, and I'll show it you!" he said, rising. "You're
English, aren't you?"
Mademoiselle Flossie waved a temporary adieu to her friends and accepted
the invitation. He poured her out a glass of wine.
"Stay and have supper with me," he begged. "I must be off soon, but I'm
tired of being alone. This is my last night, thank goodness."
"All right!" she answered gayly. "I must go back to my friends directly
afterwards."
"Order what you like," he begged. "I can't make these chaps understand
me."
She laughed, and called the waiter.
"And now show me what you were looking at in that paper," she insisted.
He pointed to the two photographs.
"I saw those two together only a week ago," he said. "Want to hear about
it?"
She looked startled for a moment, and a little incredulous.
"Yes, go on!" she said.
He told her the story. She listened with an interest which surprised
him. Once or twice when he looked up he fancied that the lady from
Vienna was also doing her best to listen.
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