will not wait for Mr. Rosario. May I sit here?"

He called a waiter and the extra place was very soon prepared.

"If Mr. Rosario comes," she said, "we can see him from here. You can
then give him your message and he can please himself. I should like
some Omelette aux Champignons, please, and some red wine--nothing
more. Perhaps I will take some fruit later. And now, please, Mr.
Arnold Chetwode, will you listen to me?"

She undid her ermine cloak and laid aside her muff. The collection
of costly trifles which she had been carrying she threw carelessly
upon the table.

"Last night," she continued, softly, "we agreed, did we not, to be
friends? It is possible you may find our friendship one of deeds,
not words alone."

"There is nothing I ask for more sincerely," he declared.

"To begin with, then," she went on, "I do not wish that you call me
Mrs. Weatherley. The name annoys me. It reminds me of things which
at times it is a joy to me to forget. You shall call me Fenella, and
I shall call you Arnold."

"Fenella," he repeated, half to himself.

She nodded.

"Well, then, that is arranged. Now for the first thing I have to ask