As he approached, she looked up at him sleepily.
"I thought you were never coming," she said.
"Did you?" said Wray, bewildered. "I—I came as soon as I could, Mrs. Cheyne. We had our cigars——"
"Oh, I know. Men have always been selfish—they always will be selfish. Cousin Cornelius is provincial to herd the men and women—like sheep—the ones in one pen, the others in another. There isn’t a salon in Europe—a real salon—where the women may not smoke if they like."
"I’m famished—but the General doesn’t approve——"
Wray had taken out his cigarette case. "Couldn’t we find a spot?"
She rose and led the way through a short corridor to the conservatory, where they found a stone bench under a palm.
He offered her his case, and she lit the cigarette daintily, holding it by the very tips of her fingers, and steadying her hand against his own as Wray would have done with a man’s. Wray did not speak. He watched her amusedly, aware of the extraordinary interest with which she invested his pet vice.
"Thanks," she said gratefully. Turning toward him then, she lowered her chin, opened her eyes, and looked straight into his.
"You know, you didn’t come to me nearly as soon as I thought you would."
"I’m glad you wanted me. I think I’d have come anyway."
"Yes, I willed it. You interested me, you see."
He looked at her quickly. Her eyes only closed sleepily, then opened again.
"How do you know? I may not be at all the kind of person you think I am."
"I’ll take a chance on that—but I wish you’d tell me what made you want me."
"I was bored. I usually am. The Bent parties are so formal and tiresome. Everybody always says the same things—does the same things." She sighed deeply. "If Cousin Cornelius saw me now I’d be in disgrace. I wonder why I always like to do the things people don’t expect me to."
"You wouldn’t be much of a woman if you didn’t," he laughed. "But I like surprises. There wouldn’t be much in life if you knew what was going to happen every minute."
"You didn’t think I was going to happen then?"
"Well," she smiled, "I have happened. What are you going to do about it?"
"Be thankful—mostly. You seem sort of human, somehow. You do what you want to—say what you want——"
"And if I don’t get what I want, ask for it," she laughed. "I told Gladys it was very inconsiderate of her not to send you in to dinner with me. She’s always doing that sort of thing. Gladys lacks a sense of proportion. As it is, the evening is almost gone, and we’ve only begun."