"You have treated me," she said, as she held out her fingers, "to
a new sensation. I have waited for you alone here for a quarter of
an hour - I! Such a thing has never happened to me before."

"You do me too much honor," Laverick declared, seating himself and
taking up the carte.

"Then, too," she continued, "I sup alone with you. That is what I
seldom do with any man. Not that I care for the appearance," she
added, with a contemptuous wave of the hand. "Nothing troubles me
less. It is simply that one man alone wearies me. Almost always
he will make love, and that I do not like. You, Mr. Laverick, I am
not afraid of. I do not think that you will make love to me."

"Any intentions I may have had," Laverick remarked, with a sigh, "I
forthwith banish. You ask a hard task of your cavaliers, though,
Mademoiselle."

She smiled and looked at him from under her eyelids.

"Not of you, I fancy, Mr. Laverick," she said. "I do not think that
you are one of those who make love to every woman because she is
good-looking or famous."

"To tell you the truth," Laverick admitted, "I find it hard to make
love to any one. I often feel the most profound admiration for
individual members of your sex, but to express one's self is
difficult - sometimes it is even embarrassing. For supper?"