interest to him. He will flirt with them when they will. He is always their admirer. In the background there may always be what you call the preference, but that is his secret."
Wrayson smiled across the table.
"This is a very dangerous doctrine, Baroness!" he declared.
"Dangerous?" she murmured.
"For us! Remember that we are a susceptible race."
She flung out her hands and shook her head. Susceptible! She denied it vehemently.
"It is on the contrary," she declared. "You do not lose your heads or your hearts very easily, you Englishmen."
"You do not know us," he protested.
"I know you," she answered. "For myself, I admit it. When I am with a man who is nice, I try that I may make him, just a little, no more, but just a little in love with me. It makes things more amusing. It is better for him, and we are not bored. But with you, mon ami, I know very well that I waste my time. And so, I ask you instead this question. Tell me why you have invited me to take luncheon with you."
She flashed her question across at him carelessly enough, but he felt that she expected an answer, and that she was not to be deceived.
"I wanted Miss Fitzmaurice's address," he said.
"Naturally. But what else?"
He sighed.
"I want to know more than you will tell me, I am afraid," he said. "I want to know why you and Miss Fitzmaurice are living together in London and leading such an unusual life, and how in Heaven's name you became concerned in the affairs of Morris Barnes."
