When, a quarter of an hour later, Armytage was seated with her at luncheon in the great table d'hote room, with its heavy gilding, its flowers and orchestral music, she, unconscious of the sensation her beauty was causing among those in her vicinity expressed fear of London. It was too enormous, too feverish, too excited for her ever to venture out alone, she declared. But he laughed merrily at her misgivings, and assured her that very soon she would be quite at home among her new surroundings. "Would you think very ill of me, piccina, if I left you alone all day to-morrow?" he asked presently, not without considerable hesitation. "Why?" she inquired, with a quick look of suspicion. "No, no," he smiled, not failing to notice the expression on her face. "I'm not going to call on any ladies, piccina. The fact is, I've had a pressing invitation for a day's shooting from an uncle in the country, and it is rather necessary, from a financial point of view, that I should keep in with the old boy. You understand?" "I'll go down by the early train," he said, "and I'll be back again here by nine to dine with you." Then, turning to the waiter standing behind his chair, he inquired whether he spoke Italian. "I am Italian, signore," the man answered. "Then, if the signorina is in any difficulty to-morrow, you will assist her?" "Certainly, signore; my number is 42," the man said, whisking off the empty plates and rearranging the knives. "I wouldn't go, only it is imperative for one or two reasons," he explained to her. "In the morning you can take a cab, and the waiter will tell the driver that you want to go for an hour or so in the West-- remember, the West End--not the East End. Then you will return to lunch, and have a rest in the afternoon. You know well that I'll hasten back to you, dearest, at the earliest possible moment." "Yes," she said, "go, by all means. You've often told me you like a day's shooting, and I certainly do not begrudge my poor Nino any little pleasure." "Then you are sure you don't object to being left alone?" "Not in the least," she laughed, as with that chic which was so charming she raised her wine-glass to her pretty lips. When they had finished luncheon she went to her room, while he smoked a cigarette; then, when she re-appeared, he drove her to his own chambers in Ebury Street. "My place is a bit gloomy, I'm afraid," he explained on the way. "But we can chat there without interruption. In the hotel it is impossible." "No place is gloomy with my Nino," she answered. His arm stole around her slim waist, and he pressed her to him more closely. "And you must not mind my servant," he exclaimed. "She's been in our family for twenty years, and will naturally regard you with considerable suspicion, especially as you are a foreigner, and she can't speak to you." "Very well," she laughed. "I quite understand. Woman-servants never like the advent of a wife."