eration which rejected as romantic blague the heart's lavishing of love.
He watched her straighten, turn slowly to face him, her train an obedient swirl about her feet, and pose for a moment with the perfect timing and design of her stage performances. It was like watching an outmoded drawing-room drama of an injured woman in the act of forgiving; one knew the lines before they were spoken.
"It seems it is not only good fortune which is inconstant, but bad also," she said as lightly as she could, quoting Madame de Pompadour, the only neutral remark she could think of at the moment to avoid the words of accusation which could escape from oneself without intention. This time she had proved to him she no longer was the weeping drenched Simone of Brussels. Confident now by reason of victory over herself which made her feel refreshed and young, she smiled at him conspiratorially and went to lock the door.
"One need not answer every knock."
He could not but marvel at the dissolution of his qualms and how in this simple act the ardor, understanding, and companionability of their first days surged again.
"Let's go to your place or mine, as you wish, before Jacques returns. Figente and his guests will be here shortly."
"Why did you not tell him we were leaving immediately?"
"I didn't know then whether you'd wish to see me."
"But you know I do not like to receive in my makeup."
"I forgot, and it never occurred to me you wouldn't want to see Figente, you always did in Paris."
"Do not think to deceive me, Paul. I know Figente is but a camouflage." She heard her voice change and, hating its ugly sound, breathed in deeply, as in singing, to recover the affectionate tone, but inhaled at the same time the scent on his sleeve. "I find it uncongenial that your companion tonight uses the same perfume as I."
"I haven't worn this suit since Paris and when I dressed tonight your scent was still on it," he said, wondering what she was talking about.
"The Mitsuoko has remained remarkably fresh indeed." Her mouth twitched as in a twinge of pain and, lighting a cigarette, she drew the smoke deep into her lungs to steady herself. She looked at him defiantly, then squashed the cigarette. "I forgot, you detest the taste of tobacco on my lips."
"You must be tired. It was thoughtless of me to come back without warning so soon after your performance," he said.
