"Excuse me," he said, plunging his fork into a fowl, and transferring it to his plate. F. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. The stranger turned his head at the sound. A broken laugh followed the action. And in this fact lay his danger. Every man in her life had betrayed her one way or another. Of course, one doesn’t like to talk about things until there are things to talk about. “I can tell you are thinking about it. ‘Flirting, Gerald? A new come-out for you.
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