nothing. Then he'll tell you about all the nobs he knows in London. And at
last he'll say that you have a strangely expressive face, and he'd like to
paint it and show the picture in the Salon. But he won't tell you it'll
cost you forty thousand francs. So I'll tell you that, because perhaps
later on, if you don't know, you might find yourself making a noise like a
tenderfoot. You see, Miss Ingate hasn't concealed that you're a lady
millionaire."

"No, I haven't," said Miss Ingate, glowing and yet sarcastic. "I couldn't
bring myself to, because I was so anxious to see if human nature in Paris
is anything like what it is in Essex."

"And why should you hide it, Winnie?" Audrey stoutly demanded.

"Well, au revoir," Tommy murmured delicately, with a very original gesture.
"He's coming back."

As Monsieur Dauphin, having apparently established peace on the roof,
approached again, Audrey discreetly examined his face and his demeanour, to
see if she could perceive in him any of the sinister things that Tommy had
implied. She was unable to make up her mind whether she could or not. But
in the end she decided that she was as shrewd as anybody in the place.

"Have you been to my roof-garden, Mrs. Moncreiff?" he asked in a persuasive
voice, raising his eyebrows.

She said she had, and that she thought the roof was heavenly.

Then from the corner of her eye she saw Miss Ingate and Tommy sidling
mischievously away, like conspirators who have lighted a time fuse. She