“You are glad that you met me, then—­that you are here?” she asked.

He raised his eyes once more.

“I don’t know,” he answered simply.  “If I really believed—­if you were always kind like this—­but, you see, you make two men of me.  When I am with you I am a fool, your fool, to do as you will with.  When I am away, some glimmerings of common sense come back, and I know.”

“You know what?” she murmured.

“That you are not honest,” he added.

“Mr. Tavernake!” she exclaimed, lifting her head a little.

“Oh, I don t mean dishonest in the ordinary way!” he protested, eagerly.  “What I mean is that you look things which you don’t feel, that you are willing for any one who can’t help admiring you very much to believe for a moment that you, too, feel more kindly than you really do.  This is so clumsy,” he broke off, despairingly, “but you understand what I mean!”

“You have an adorable way of making yourself understood,” she laughed.  “Come, do let us talk sense for a minute or two.  You say that when you are with me you are my slave.  Then why is it that you do not bring Beatrice here when I beg you to?”

“I am your slave,” he answered, “in everything that has to do with myself and my own actions.  In that other matter it is for your sister to decide.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Well,” she said, “I suppose I shall be able to endure life without her.  At any rate, we will talk of something else.  Tell me, are you not curious to know why I insisted upon bringing you here?”

“Yes,” he admitted, “I am.”

“Spoken with your usual candor, my dear Briton!” she exclaimed.  “Well, I will gratify your curiosity.  This, as you see, is not a popular supping place.  A few people come in—­mostly those who for some reason or other don’t feel smart enough for the big restaurants.  The people from the theatres come in here who have not time to change their clothes.  As you perceive; the place has a distinctly Bohemian flavor.”

Tavernake looked around.

“They seem to come in all sorts of clothes,” he remarked.  “I am glad.”

“There is a man now in London,” Elizabeth continued, “whom I am just as anxious to see as I am to find my sister.  I believe that this is the most likely place to find him.  That is why I have come.  My father was to have been here to take me, but as you heard he has gone out somewhere and not returned.  None of my other friends were available.  You happened to come in just in time.”

“And this man whom you want to see,” Tavernake asked, “is he here?”

“Not yet,” she answered.