THE HOUSE OF MIRTH
to the American craving for novelty, but fresh and inviting with their awnings and flower-boxes.
"Ah, yes—to be sure: The Benedick. What a nice-looking building! I don't think I've ever seen it before." She looked across at the flat-house with its marble porch and pseudo-Georgian facade. "Which are your windows? Those with the awnings down?"
"On the top floor—yes."
"And that nice little balcony is yours? How cool it looks up there!"
He paused a moment. "Come up and see," he suggested. "I can give you a cup of tea in no time—and you won't meet any bores."
Her colour deepened—she still had the art of blushing at the right time—but she took the suggestion as lightly as it was made.
"Why not? It's too tempting—I'll take the risk," she declared.
"Oh, I'm not dangerous," he said in the same key. In truth, he had never liked her as well as at that moment. He knew she had accepted without afterthought: he could never be a factor in her calculations, and there was a surprise, a refreshment almost, in the spontaneity of her consent.
On the threshold he paused a moment, feeling for his latch-key.
"There's no one here; but I have a servant who is sup-
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