"Mr. Wrayson," she said, "please don't think me unkind. I know that I have a great deal to thank you for, and that there are certain explanations which you have almost a right to demand from me. And yet I ask you to go away, to ask me nothing at all, to believe me when I assure you that there is nothing in the world so undesirable as any acquaintance between you and me." Wrayson was staggered, the words were so earnestly spoken, and the look which accompanied them was so eloquent. He was never sure, when he thought it over afterwards, what manner of reply he might not have made to an appeal, the genuineness of which was absolutely convincing. But before he could frame an answer, the Baroness intervened. "Louise," she said softly, "do you not think that this place is a little public for intimate conversation, and will you not introduce to me your friend?" Wrayson, who had been afraid of dismissal, turned at once, almost eagerly, towards the Baroness. She smiled at him graciously. Louise hesitated for a moment. There was no smile upon her lips. She bowed, however, to the inevitable. "This is Mr. Wrayson," she said quietly; "the Baroness de Sturm." The Baroness raised her eyebrows, and she bestowed upon Wrayson a comprehending look. The graciousness of her manner, however, underwent no abatement. "I fancy," she said, "that I have heard of you somewhere lately, or is it another of the same name? Will you not sit down and take your coffee with us--and a cigarette--yes?" "We are keeping Mr. Wrayson from his friends, no doubt," Louise said coldly. "Besides--do you see the time, Amy?" But Wrayson had already drawn up a chair to the table. "I am quite alone," he said. "If I may stay, I shall be delighted." "Why not?" the Baroness asked, passing her cigarette case. "You can solve for us the problem we were just then discussing. Is it _comme-il-faut,_ Mr. Wrayson, for two ladies, one of whom is almost middle-aged, to visit a music-hall here in London unescorted?" Wrayson glanced from Louise to her friend. "May I inquire," he asked blandly, "which is the lady who is posing as being almost middle-aged?" The Baroness laughed at him softly, with a little contraction of the eyebrows, which she usually found effective. "We are going to be friends, Mr. Wrayson," she declared. "You are sitting there in fear and trembling, and yet you have dared to pay a compliment, the first I have heard for, oh! so many months. Do not be afraid. Louise is not so terrible as she seems. I will not let her send you away. Now you must answer my question. May we do this terrible thing, Louise and I?" "Assuredly not," he answered gravely, "when there is a man at hand who is so anxious to offer his escort as I." The Baroness clapped her hands. "Do you hear, Louise?" she exclaimed. "I hear," Louise answered dryly. The Baroness made a little grimace.