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304 but Chu-Chu smiled wickedly and looked the other way.

Léontine and I went back to the table, both of us rather pensive. Presently she said:

"That was the Countess Rosalie, who took you out to Hertzfeld's the other day, then waited to bring you back—afterward." "Quite so," I answered.

Léontine raised her eyebrows. "A conquest?" she asked.

"Rather more than that—a good, disinterested friend."

"Really?" Léontine toyed with her poulet-au-riz. Her colour faded slightly. "Comparisons are not polite, mon ami," she said.

"I wasn't making them. I never considered you in the light of a conquest."

"What then?"

"Oh, merely a woman of uncommon beauty and attainments, balked of a passing whim for the first time in her life."

She laughed and seemed pleased. The cleverest of women—Léontine was scarcely that, being more a creature of instinct than intellectuality—are seldom immune from flattery.

"Does Chu-Chu know that she was driving me that day?" I asked.

"Of course not." Léontine poured out a little red wine and tasted it critically "Ugh!"—she gave a little shudder—"the stuff has a blood flavour!"

"Léontine!" My voice was sharp, I think, because she looked up in surprise and the high cheeks began to grow dusky.