[_Rising and wandering to the writing-table._] First we descended upon Paris--you know; but Paris didn't respond very satisfactorily. Plenty of smart men flocked round us--_la belle Mademoiselle Filson_ drew _them_ to the Avenue Montaigne!---- PHILIP. [_Under his breath, turning._] T'scht! OTTOLINE. But the women were either hopelessly _bourgeoises_ or slightly _declassee_. [_Inspecting some of the pieces of bric-a-brac upon the table._] Which decided us to attack London--and induced me to pay my call on you in the Rue Soufflot---- PHILIP. I understand. OTTOLINE. To coax you to herald us in your weekly _causeries_. [_Wincing._] Horrible of me, _that_ was; horrible, horrible, horrible! [_Replacing an object upon the table and moving to the other side of the room._] However, I wasn't destined to share the earliest of the London triumphs. [_Bitterly._] Mine awaited me in Paris, and at Vaudemont-Baudricourt, as the Comtesse de Chaumie! [_Shivering._] Ugh-h-h-h----! [_She is about to sit in the chair on the left when he comes to her impulsively and restrains her._ PHILIP. My poor girl----! OTTOLINE. [_With abandon._] Ah----! PHILIP. My poor dear girl! OTTOLINE. It's a relief to me to open my heart to you, Philip. [_He leads her to the fauteuil-stool._] Robbie won't interrupt us yet awhile, will he? PHILIP. We'll kick him out if he does. [_They sit, close together, upon the fauteuil-stool._] Oh, but he won't! This is a deep-laid plot of the old chap's---- OTTOLINE. Plot? PHILIP. To invite us here to-day, you and me, to--to---- OTTOLINE. _Amener un rapprochement?_ PHILIP. Exactly. OTTOLINE. [_Softly._] Ha, ha! Dear old Robbie! [_He laughs with her._] Dear, dear old Robbie! [_Her laughter dies out, leaving her with a serious, appealing face._] Phil---- PHILIP. Eh? OTTOLINE. Your sneer--your sneer about me and the papers---- PHILIP. Sneer? OTTOLINE. I detected it. Almost the first thing you said to me when I arrived was that you'd been gathering news of me lately from the papers! PHILIP. [_Gently._] Forgive me. OTTOLINE. It's been none of my doing; I've finished with _le snobbisme_ entirely. [_Pleadingly._] You don't doubt me? PHILIP. [_Patting her hand._] No--no. OTTOLINE.