She threw herself back in her seat and laughed.
"Conceited! Why should any one want to be on your track? Come and see me
dance at the Comique to-morrow night."
"Can't," he declared. "My sister's coming over from England."
"Stupid!"
"Oh, I'll come one night," he declared. "Order some coffee, won't
you--and what liqueurs?"
"I'll go and fetch my friends," she declared, rising. "We'll all have
coffee together."
"Who are they?" he asked.
She pointed to a little group down the room--two men and a woman. The
men were French, one middle-aged and one young, dark, immaculate, and
with the slightly bored air affected by young Frenchmen of fashion; the
woman was strikingly handsome and magnificently dressed. They were quite
the most distinguished-looking people in the room.
"If you think they'll come," he remarked doubtfully. "Aren't we rather
comfortable as we are?"
She made her way between the tables.
"Oh, they'll come," she declared. "They're pals!"
She floated down the room with a cigarette in her mouth, very graceful
in her airy muslin skirts and large hat. Guy followed her admiringly
with his eyes. The Viennese lady suddenly tore off a corner of her menu
and scribbled something quickly.
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