But he never stared to the point of rudeness, and it always seemed to make
him hugely uncomfortable if she appeared in the least aware of his
adoration; and Mama Thérèse and Papa Dupont never even noticed him, so
circumspect was he. Still, Sofia saw, and sometimes wondered, just as she
wondered now and then about most of the possible men who seemed disposed to
be sentimental about her.

For there were times when she felt she could do with a little more
first-hand experience and a little less second-hand knowledge.

Love (she supposed) must be a very agreeable frame of mind to be in, it was
so generally vogue....

What first led her to think that Mr. Karslake might be an interesting
person to know, entirely aside from his admiration, happened on an
afternoon in June, a warm day for England, when a temperature of some 81
degrees was responsible for "heat-wave" broadsides issued by the evening
papers.

At about tea time, Mr. Karslake, faultlessly arrayed, ambled in, selected a
table diagonally across the room from the caisse, exchanged pleasantries
with the waiter who served him a picon, and used a copy of The Evening
Standard & St. James's Gazette as a cover for his wistful admiration of
Sofia.

Presently he was joined by a gentleman twice his age, if not older, whose
conservative smartness was such that one wondered if he hadn't strayed out
of bounds through inadvertence. One would have thought his place was in the
clubs of Piccadilly if not (at that particular hour) at a tea table on the
river terrace of the Houses of Parliament. On the other hand, there wasn't