shoulders, and turning to Sonia, said, "Will you be an angel and play me a little Grieg, Mademoiselle Kritchnoff? I heard you playing yesterday. No one plays Grieg like you."
"Excuse me, Jacques, but Mademoiselle Kritchnoff has her work to do," said Germaine tartly.
"Five minutes' interval—just a morsel of Grieg, I beg," said the Duke, with an irresistible smile.
"All right," said Germaine grudgingly. "But I've something important to talk to you about."
"By Jove! So have I. I was forgetting. I've the last photograph I took of you and Mademoiselle Sonia." Germaine frowned and shrugged her shoulders. "With your light frocks in the open air, you look like two big flowers," said the Duke.
"You call that important!" cried Germaine.
"It's very important—like all trifles," said the Duke, smiling. "Look! isn't it nice?" And he took a photograph from his pocket, and held it out to her.
"Nice? It's shocking! We're making the most appalling faces," said Germaine, looking at the photograph in his hand.
"Well, perhaps you are making faces," said
