"Since it is to be confidences" (this she questioned with an all but
imperceptible lifting of the eyebrows), "I don't mind telling you my own
name is really Philip Kirkwood."

"And you are an old friend of my father's?"

He opened his lips, but only to close them without speaking. The girl moved
her shoulders with a shiver of disdain.

"I knew it wasn't so."

"You know it would be hard for a young man like myself to be a very old
friend," he countered lamely.

"How long, then, have you known each other?"

"Must I answer?"

"Please."

"Between three and four hours."

"I thought as much." She stared past him, troubled. Abruptly she said:
"Please smoke."

"Shall I? If you wish it, of course...."

She repeated: "Please."