Really, I am most
considerate--you keep a dry skin, you waste no time in reaching me, and
you need not even trouble to change your coat.'
"'It sounds very cosy,' I admitted, 'but there is one drawback to it
all--I do not see you.'
"'That may be more considerate of me still! I may be reluctant to
banish your illusions. Isn't it probable that I am elderly--or, at
least plain? I may even be a lady novelist, with ink on her fingers.
By-the-bye, monsieur, I have been rereading one of your books since
last night.'
"'Oh, you know my name now? I am gratified to have become more than a
telephonic address to you. May I ask if we have ever met?'
"'We never spoke till last night, but I have seen you often,'
"'You, at any rate, can have no illusions to be banished. What a
relief! I have endeavoured to talk as if I had a romantic bearing; now
that you know how I look, I can be myself.'
"'I await your next words with terror,' she said. 'What shock is in
store for me? Speak gently.'
"'Well, speaking gently, I am very glad that you were put on to the
wrong number last night. At the same time, I feel a constraint, a
difficulty; I cannot talk to you frankly, cannot be serious--it is as
if I showed my face while you were masked.'
"'Yes, it is true--I understand,' she said. 'And even if I were to
swear that I was not unworthy of your frankness, you would still be
doubtful of me, I suppose?'
"'Madame--'
"'Oh, it is natural! I know very well how I must appear to you,' she
exclaimed; 'a coquette, with a new pastime--a vulgar coquette, besides,
who tries to pique your interest by an air of mystery.
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