So Fanny began to talk to George quite naturally and gaily. He was suspicious, and gave her three verbal bangs in quick succession. She took them with unflinching good humour, and went on talking and trying to find out what he was interested in. George pretty soon melted to her gaiety—or perhaps it was the gem-like eyes. He looked at them, and wondered what it felt like to possess natural organs which were such superb _objets d’art_. They must, he reflected, cause her a good deal of annoyance. Every man who met her would feel called upon to inform her that she had wonderful eyes, as if he had made an astounding discovery, hitherto unrevealed by any one. George decided that it would be well _not_ to comment upon Fanny’s eyes at a first meeting. Reggie had failed to interest Elizabeth in Alpine climbing, and switched off on to “a_mus_ing” anecdotes, which were more successful. Under the mild influence of a little wine and a sympathetic listener Reggie shed some of his worst mannerisms, and became almost human. He liked Elizabeth. She might not be wholly “a_mus_ing” but she was “re_fresh_ing.” (She was a good listener.) And when the talk once again became general, George began to think that Reggie was not such a bad fellow after all; there was a sort of “niceness” about him, the genuine English pride and good nature under a screen of affectation. They sat over coffee and cigarettes until the fidgeting of the waiter and “Madame’s” little games with the electric switches warned them that their money and absence would now be more welcome than their company. It was well after ten—too late for the cinema. They walked down Shaftesbury Avenue, George with Reggie, and Elizabeth with Fanny. “I like your George,” said Fanny. “Do you? I’m so glad.” “He’s a bit _farouche_, but I like the way he enthuses about what interests him. It’s not put on.” “I think Reggie’s rather nice.” “Oh! Reggie....” and Fanny waved her hand with a little shrug. “But he _is_ nice, Fanny. You know you like him.” “Yes, he’s all right. I’m not wild about him. You can have him, if you want.” “Oh! Oh!” Elizabeth laughed, “wait till I ask you!” * * * * * They separated at Piccadilly Circus. Fanny and Reggie went off somewhere in a taxi. Coming down Shaftesbury Avenue, George had noticed that it was a clear night with a full moon, and insisted on going to the Embankment to see the moonlight on the Thames. They turned into the Haymarket. “What do you think of Fanny?” asked Elizabeth. “I think she has most marvelous eyes.” “Yes, that’s what every one says.” “I was trying to be original! But she’s a nice girl, too. At first, when she and Burnside began talking, I thought she was hopelessly infected by his sort of affectation.” “Why! Don’t you like him? I thought he was charming.”