"Have you been to the theatre?" I asked.

"Not this evening," she replied; "I have been to a meeting."

"A meeting!" I repeated; "that sounds interesting!"

"I doubt whether you would have found it so," she answered dryly.

Her manner, without being absolutely repellent, was far from encouraging.
I found myself in the embarrassing position of having nothing left to
say. I gave up all attempt at conversational philandering.

"May I talk to you for a few minutes, Miss Van Hoyt?" I asked.

She raised her head and looked at me meditatively. Her eyes were the
color of early violets, but they were also very serious and very steady.
She appeared to be deliberately taking stock of me, but I could not
flatter myself that there was anything of personal interest in her
regard.

"Yes!" she answered at last, "for a few minutes. Not here though. Go
through the drawing-room on to the terrace, and wait for me there. Don't
go at once. Go downstairs and have a drink or something first."

I could see her looking through the glass doors, and divining her wishes,
I turned away at once. Mr. Blumentein was standing there, looking upon
us. His smile was almost ghastly in its attempted cordiality. He took off
his hat as I passed, and we exchanged some commonplace remark. I went
downstairs and strolled up and down. The minutes passed ridiculously
slowly. I looked at my watch a dozen times. At last I decided that I had