’ ‘Indeed, I’m beginning to think so,’ he said ruefully. ’ He moved to his friend and grasped his hand in a gesture as deliberately dramatic as the storytelling of mademoiselle. Spurling had retired for the night. The next moment his grasp relaxed, and he sank to rise no more. He must be more or less of an age with this man. He was a handsome man, and Lucy could see the strong resemblance of John to him. “I ought to look up Gwen,” she said. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. “Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. “May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. Shari draped herself lazily upon her unmade bed.
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