"America's misfortune," he whispered.

"Or fortune!" she laughed. "It's merely a matter of viewpoint. To those
who have knowledge of the comparatively recent past, Madeline Spencer
may be a _persona non_. However--" with a shrug of her shapely shoulders
and an indifferent lift of her fine hands. "Won't you sit down, Mr.
Harleston; that is, if you're not afraid for your reputation. I assume
that here you have a reputation to protect."

"I'm quite sure that my reputation, whatever it be, won't suffer by
what you intimate!" he smiled, and handed her into a chair.

"You were much surprised to see me, _n'est-ce pas_?" she asked low,
leaning close.

"Much more than much," he replied confidentially.

"Honest?" she asked, still low and close.

"Much more than honest," he answered. "It's been a long time since we
met."

"Three months!"

"Three months is much more than long--sometimes."

She gave him an amused smile.

"I was thinking of you only last night," he volunteered.