"May I escort you home?" he said. "At any rate, let me get you a taxi."

"Lady Sellingworth, may I introduce Ambrose Jennings," said Miss Van
Tuyn in a rather firm voice at this moment.

Lady Sellingworth bent kindly to the little man far down below her.
After a word or two she said:

"Now I must go."

"Must you really? Then Mr. Craven will get you a taxi."

"If it's fine, I will walk. It seems more suitable to walk home after
dining here."

"Walk! Then let us all walk together, and we'll persuade you into the
Cafe Royal."

"Dick Garstin will be there," said Ambrose Jennings in a frail voice,
"Enid Blunt, a Turkish refugee from Smyrna who writes quite decent
verse, Thapoulos, Penitence Murray, who is just out of prison, and Smith
the sculptor, with his mistress, a round-faced little Russian girl.
She's the dearest little Bolshevik I know."

He looked plaintively yet critically at Lady Sellingworth, and pulled
his little black beard with fingers covered with antique rings.

"Dear little bloodthirsty thing!" he added to Lady Sellingworth. "You
would like her. I know it."