"I shall write to you," he added, "when I have settled. Where do you
stay at Paris?"
"We haven't decided yet," I said.
"We?" he repeated.
"Didn't I tell you? Mr. Royce, our junior partner, is with me--he's
had a breakdown in health, too, and needed a rest."
"It is no matter where you stay," he said; "I shall write to you at
the _poste restante_. I should like both you and your friend to be my
guests before you return to Amer-ric'."
There was a courtesy, a cordiality in his tone which almost disarmed
me. Such a finished scoundrel! It seemed a shame that I couldn't be
friends with him, for I enjoyed him so thoroughly.
"We shall be glad to accept," I answered, knowing in my heart that the
invitation would never be made. "You're very kind."
He waved his hand deprecatingly, then let it fall upon the bed with a
gesture of weariness. I recognized the sign of dismissal. I was ready
to go; I had accomplished all I could hope to accomplish; if I had
not already disarmed his suspicions, I could never do so.
"I am tiring you!" I said, starting up. "How thoughtless of me!"
"No," he protested; "no"; but his voice was almost inaudible.
"I will go," I said. "You must pardon me. I hope you will soon be
better," and I closed the door behind me with his murmured thanks in
my ears.
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