he had done wrong. She spread herself out still further in his direction, and cast side glances at him from under her Gainsborough.
"What were you laughing at just now?" he said impulsively.
"My dear boy, when?"
"With that man."
"Which man?"
"It doesn't matter," he said, blushing again.
She looked up, and winked at the man leaning against the wall.
"Have I offended you by speaking to you?" he said, looking with much concern into her eyes.
She put a little scented net of a handkerchief up to her mouth, and went into uncontrollable fits of laughter.
"What a funny boy you are!" she gasped. "Do do it again."
He looked at her in amazement, and moved a little further away.
"I'm going to tell the waiter to bring me a port—after that last bit of business."
"I don't understand all this," he said desperately: "I wish I had never spoken to you; I wish I had never come in here at all."
"You're very rude all of a sudden. Now don't be troublesome and say you're too broke to pay for drinks," she added as the waiter put the port down with great deliberation opposite her, and held out the empty tray respectfully to him. He stared.
"Why don't you pay, you cuckoo?"
Mechanically he put down a florin, and the waiter counted out the change.
There was a pause. She fingered the stem of her wine-glass, taking little sips, and watching him all the while.
"How
