“At this hour of the evening?  What about being late?”

She gave a little stamp with her foot, then laughed again.  “What a boy it is!” she said.  “Don’t you know anywhere to go?”

Peter hesitated; then he made up his mind.  There was an hotel he knew of, out of the main street, of none too good a reputation.  Some men had taken Langton and him there, once, in the afternoon, between the hours in which drinks were legally sold, and they had gone through the hall into a little back-room that was apparently partly a sitting-room, partly part of the private rooms of the landlord, and had been served there.  He recalled the description of one of the men:  “It’s a place to know.  You can always get a drink, and take in anyone you please.”

“Come on, then,” he said, and turned down a back-street.

“Where in the world are you taking me?” demanded Julie.  “I shall have no reputation left if this gets out.”

“Nor shall I,” said Peter.

“Nor you will; what a spree!  Do you think it’s worth it, Peter?”

Under a shaded lamp they were passing at the moment, he glanced at her, and his pulses raced!  “Good God, Julie!” he said, “you could do anything with me.”

She chuckled with laughter, her brown eyes dancing.  “Maybe,” she said, “but I’m out to talk to you for your good now.”

They turned another corner, into an old street, and under an arch.  Peter walked forward to the hotel entrance, and entered.  There was a woman in the office, who glanced up, and looked, first at Peter, then at Julie.  On seeing her behind him, she came forward.  “What can I do for monsieur?” she asked.

“Good-evening, madame,” said Peter.  “I was here the other day.  Give us a bottle of wine in that little room at the back, will you?”

“Why, certainly, monsieur,” said she.  “Will madame follow me?  It is this way.”

She opened, the door, and switched on the light, “Shall I light the fire, madame?” she demanded.

Julie beamed on her.  “Ah, yes; that would be jolly,” she said.  “And the wine, madame—­Beaune.”

The woman smiled and bowed.  “Let madame but seat herself and it shall come,” she said, and went out.

Julie took off her hat, and walked to the glass, patting her hair.  “Give me a cigarette, my dear,” she said.  “It was jolly hard only to smoke one to-night.”

Peter opened and handed her his case in silence, then pulled up a big chair.  There was a knock at the door, and a girl came in with the wine and glasses, which she set on the table, and, then knelt down to light the fire.  She withdrew and shut the door.  They were alone.

Peter was still standing.  Julie glanced at him, and pointed to a chair opposite.  “Give me a drink, and then go and sit there,” she said.

He obeyed.  She pulled her skirts up high to the blaze and pushed one foot out to the logs, and sat there, provocative, sipping her wine and puffing little puffs of smoke from her cigarette.  “Now, then,” she said, “what did I do wrong to-night?”