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 sprinkled with personal pronouns as a caviar pot with fish-eggs.

By the time coffee was served at a little table before a couch, on which he now sat by her side, and a footman had removed the soiled plates and silver and taken his departure, Ambrose felt as comfortable as it would ever be possible for him to feel in this feverish environment. This, fortuitously, was the exact moment chosen by Imperia to speak what was on her mind. It was incredible, Ambrose thought afterwards, that she had waited until the servants had left the room. He had reason to be fully aware of how little reticent Imperia could be in the presence of domestics. She was, he was convinced, capable of committing the ultimate folly in their company. To her, apparently, they were no more relevant to caution than a chair or a clock. Then, either accident, or some mysterious cause, had induced the actress to defer her comments.

I am so lonely, so very lonely, was her manner of beginning, while she tapped her fan against her crossed knees, swinging her leg back and forth.

You lonely! he ejaculated, really surprised.

She regarded him with a mild form of irritation, mild at least for Imperia.