talk. But she found occasion to whisper to him in the course of the meal, after screwing her head round several times, and glaring at the stranger through her pince-nez—
"I don't like his face, Ally. I am sorry. I hope he is better than he looks."
On the other side, Melchior had opened the conversation with infinite discretion. There was nothing in his tone or manner, at first, to recall the impudent individual in Jacob's shop, on whom she had bestowed no more than an indignant glance, and who had passed straightway out of her mind. Towards the end of breakfast he fell into that snare of the underbred, and became more familiar.
"You don't know Monte Carlo? You must come over with Mr. Baring and breakfast with me there, and I will take you round the tables. You shall play for me, if you like, and———"
"I should not like it at all, thank you," she interrupted.
"Why not? I am having a wonderful run of luck. I won again last night. If you play for me, we'll go shares. What do you say to that, mademoiselle?"
Elizabeth checked the impetuous rejoinder that rose to her lips. She did not wish to offend Alaric Baring's sitter. She must let him down gently.
"Miss Baring is not strong enough to go to Monte Carlo, and I do not leave her."
"What a beautiful case of female devotion! "Here he showed his brilliant white teeth. "It is a pity, for you might make a lot of friends there; and then, if you sent your pictures over, we'd get up a raffle for them. Will you show me your work presently?"
