She was
rather tall; she had masses of dark brown hair, a suspicion of a fringe,
and deep blue eyes. She came toward us very deliberately, with the same
grace of movement I had watched and admired night after night. She gave me
a glance of the slightest possible curiosity as she approached. Then her
father introduced us.
"This is Mr. Paul Walmsley, my dear," he said--"my daughter. Have you
dined, Eve?"
She shook hands with me and smiled very charmingly.
"Hours ago," she replied. "I didn't mean to come out this evening, but I
was so bored that I thought I would try and find you."
She accepted the chair I was holding and unbuttoned her cloak.
"You will have some coffee?" I begged.
"Why, that would be delightful," she agreed. "I am so glad to find you
with my father, Mr. Walmsley," she continued. "I know he hates dining
alone; but this evening I had an appointment with a dressmaker quite late
--and I didn't feel a bit like dinner anyhow."
"You come here often, don't you?" I ventured.
"Very often indeed," she replied. "You see it is not in the least
entertaining where we are staying and the cooking is abominable. Then
father adores restaurants. Do tell me what you have been talking about--
you two men--all the evening?"
"The truth!" Mr.
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