“You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. Anna was not “Alcide” of the “Ambassador’s,” whose subtly demure smile and piquant glances had called him to her side from the moment of their first meeting. I heard only after it was all over. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. ’ The lashes fluttered demurely. You want industry—you want steadiness. Others are smart but fall prey to emotional damage, the female lunar instinct of cunning that goes awry.
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