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 At this moment a footman fortuitously appeared with cocktails, thus sparing Ambrose the immediate anguish of determining which window he would prefer to crash through. He swallowed his first cocktail with so much dispatch that the discerning servant immediately refilled his glass. He contrived to dispose of several more before dinner was announced.

While he was drinking, Imperia was talking.

You may wonder, she was saying, why I should bore you with my troubles. Do not deny it. . . he had made no effort to speak, but she had tapped his arm with her closed fan as if he had interrupted her. . . I know. It is always a bore to listen to the troubles of others.

She smiled just here. Her expression was radiant. It seemed ominous to Ambrose that she should choose the occasion on which she looked happiest to discuss her misfortunes.

I do not know whether you know it, Ambrose—do permit me to call you Ambrose—but I have taken a great fancy to you, a very great fancy. I talk to few people. I am too proud. Besides, she went on, her eyes glittering like those of an alluring serpent, my troubles to some extent concern you.

The butler announced dinner and his hostess led