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Certainly the fates were befriending him! He said nothing, but her eyes followed the slight motion of his head. Coming down the steps from Ciro's were her husband and Felicia Roche. Violet looked at them for a moment. Then she turned her head away. "Most inopportune," she sighed, with a little attempt at gaiety. "Shall we meet later at the Club?" "Assuredly," Mr. Draconmeyer replied.
A little while ago, he had walked through the Galerie Charles Trois, thinking how delightful the tables looked at Ciro's, and making up his mind to return there for lunch. But afterwards, on the terrace, he had been so miserable that he would probably have forgotten all about his plan, if it had not been for the girl.
"My poor girl, we won't say anything more about chaperons. Come along with me to Ciro's this instant, to lunch, and tell me everything." He was completely won over now, and looked very handsome, with a slight flush on his brown face, and his dark eyes bright with excitement. The girl lowered her long lashes, perhaps to hide tears.
Dorise said half-past seven, and we'll just get across to the Metropole in time. Lady Ranscomb is always awfully punctual at home, and I expect she carries out her time-table here." The two men put on light overcoats over their dinner-jackets and strolled in the warm dusk across the Gardens and up the Galerie, with its expensive little shops, past the original Ciro's to the Metropole.
He dined at the Grand, the Métropole, or the Riviera Palace, and supped each night at Ciro's, indulging in a little mild play in the Rooms in the interval between the two meals. He did not often go out in the car, but frequently went to Nice and Cannes by train.
Couldn't we have a little dinner at Ciro's and catch the last train to Nice; have a look at Richard and his wife and then go on to Cannes, and make our way back to England later?" She looked at him and his face grew younger. There was something in her eyes which reminded him of the days which for so many weary months he had been striving to forget.
What we would like France to do, while France loses its money at roulette and flirts with the pretty ladies at Ciro's, is to try and accustom itself not to an alliance with Germany no! Nothing so utopian as that. The lion and the lamb may remain apart. They may agree to be friends, they may even wave paws at one another, but I do not suggest that they march side by side.
"Tell me about Naida," the former begged, a little abruptly. "Naida is a wonderful woman," Nigel declared enthusiastically. "We lunched at Ciro's. She wore a black and white muslin gown which arrived this morning from Paris. Afterwards we went down to Ranelagh and sat under the trees." "Throwing yourself thoroughly into your little job, aren't you!" Maggie sniffed.
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