'To breakfast! Never! You are dreaming!' She paused an instant. 'Yes, I
believe I did. What difference does it make? Go and get your breakfast
somewhere else!' 'Oh no!' protested the visitor, who had been examining Margaret's face
and figure. 'I can wait any length of time, but I shall keep you to
your bargain, dear lady.' 'You are detestable! Well, then you must go and look out of the window
while I get down.' 'With pleasure,' Logotheti answered, meaning exactly what he said, and
turning his back after a deliberate look at Margaret.
Madame Bonanni worked herself to the edge of the divan, with a curious
sidelong movement, got one of her feet upon the stool and slipped down,
till she stood on the floor. Then she gathered the folds of her
bathing-gown to her and ran to the door with astonishing agility, for
so large a person.
Margaret was not sure what she should do, and began to follow her,
hoping to exchange a few words with her before going away. At the door,
Madame Bonanni suddenly draped herself in the dark velvet curtain,
stuck her head out and looked back.
'Of course you will stay to breakfast, my dear!' she called out,
'Logotheti! I present you to Miss--Miss--oh, the name doesn't matter! I
present you!' 'I'm afraid I cannot----' Margaret began to say, not knowing how long
she might be left alone with Logotheti.
But Madame Bonanni had already unfurled the curtain and fled. Logotheti
bowed gravely to Margaret, cleared the things off one of the chairs and
offered it to her. His manner was as respectful with her as it had been
familiar with the singer, and she felt at once that he understood her
position.
'Thank you,' she said quietly, as she seated herself.
He cleared another chair and sat down at a little distance. She glanced
at him furtively and saw that he was a very dark man of rather long
features; that his eyes were almond-shaped, like those of many
orientals; that he had a heavy jaw and a large mouth with lips that
were broad rather than thick, and hardly at all concealed by a small
black moustache which was trained to lie very flat to his face, and
turned up at the ends; that his short hair was worn brush fashion,
without a parting; that he had olive brown hands with strong fingers,
on one of which he wore an enormous turquoise in a ring; that his
clothes were evidently the result of English workmanship misguided by a
very un-English taste; and finally that he was well-built and looked
strong. She wondered very much what his nationality might be, for his
accent had told her that he was not French.