"We are so interested to hear, Miss Pellissier," she said, "that you
have been living in Paris. We shall expect you to tell us all what to
wear."
Anna smiled very faintly, and shook her head.
"I have come from a very unfashionable quarter," she said, "and I do
not think that I have been inside a milliner's shop for a year.
Besides, it is all reversed now, you know. Paris copies London."
Brendon leaned over confidentially.
"You are in luck, Miss Pellissier," he declared. "Your success here is
absolutely meteoric. Miss Ellicot has spoken to you, the great Mr.
Bullding is going to. For five minutes he has been trying to think of
something to say. I am not sure, but I believe that he has just
thought of something."
"May I be prepared?" Anna asked. "Which is Mr. Bullding?"
"Stout old gentleman four places down on the left. Look out, it's
coming."
Anna raised her eyes, and caught the earnest gaze of an elderly
gentleman with a double chin, a protuberant under lip, and a
snuff-stained coat.
"I was in Paris four years ago," Mr. Building announced solemnly. "It
rained the whole of the time, but we saw all the sights, and the place
never seemed dull."
"It takes a great deal of bad weather to depress the true Parisian,"
Anna admitted.
"A volatile temperament--yes, a volatile temperament," Mr. Bullding
repeated, rather struck with the phrase. "It is a pity that as nations
we are not more friendly."
Anna nodded and turned again to Courtlaw.
"I will not be drawn into a conversation with Mr. Bullding," she
declared. "I believe that he would bore me. Tell me, what are these
bananas and nuts for?"
"Dessert."
Anna laid down her serviette.
"Let us escape," she said. "Couldn't we three go out and have some
coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me."
Brendon laughed softly.
"We can," he said, "and we will. But it is only fair to warn you that
it isn't expected. Mrs. White is proud of her drawing-room evenings.
There is a musical programme, and we have the windows open and blinds
up, and a pink lamp shade over the piano lamp--a sort of advertisement
of the place, you know. Strangers look in and long, and neighbours are
moved to envy."
Anna hesitated no longer. She almost sprang to her feet. Conscious of
Mrs. White's surprise as she swung easily down the room, followed by
the two young men, she smiled a careless explanation at her.
"I am dying to renew my acquaintance with London, Mrs. White," she
remarked.
"You are not going out--this evening, I trust," that lady asked, a
trifle dismayed.
Anna did not pause, but she looked over her shoulder with slightly
lifted eyebrows.
"Why not? They tell me that London is impossible till after ten, and I
want my first impressions to be favourable."