Napier looked composed, but always the fever lurked in the dark eyes, always the dark eyes looked as though they were suffering from what neither you nor he could tell. That greyhound, sensitive and doubtful and poised ... for flight! And he somehow looked queerly festive in that sombre, conventional hall, with his faded I Zingari tie and the brown Shetland waistcoat which was for the most part unbuttoned. “Oh, Naps, such a wonder!” cried Venice on the instant, and I saw what one is so apt to see after an intimate talk with a woman, that one has only been talking to a mood. Venice was in an instant as I had always seen her with Napier, impetuous, imperious, gay. “What do you think, Naps! I have got a car, a lovely car, swift and shining, and a man called Hebblethwaite for chauffeur. Now what do you think of that?” “I think,” said Napier gravely, smiling at me, “that it must be an English car. And what do you intend doing about it? Driving in the Bois? What?” “Driving in the Bois! Am I mad! My child, it’s his sister’s car, and she has lent it to us, and we are going South in it, that is what we are going to do. And I ordered Mr. Hebblethwaite at three, and I’ve had all your things packed, and I’ve settled the bill, so we can go right away.” Napier stared at her--he was sitting now--and it was as though he had put his hand to his mouth and placed a smile there. It was a very charming, helpless smile. I said something to the effect that I must go now, but no one was taking any notice of me. Venice was saying, in a voice tangled with confusion, impatience, a sort of gaiety: “But, Naps, you don’t mean to say you want to stay still another night in this foul Paris, when we might be in the sun!” Napier scowled, the smile still on his mouth. “Of course, I don’t _want_, but----” “Oh, but, Naps, I’d like to go straight away, right away, as the Yankees say! And I thought we might have tea at Fontainebleau and I’d show you the place where I was at school....” “Now look here,” Napier scowled, touching her knee with one finger, “I can’t quite do that, Venice. You see, I made a sort of promise to that doctor fellow that I would go and sit with Iris just for a while this afternoon----” “Oh, I see,” said Venice. “Well, in that case....” “Give her an idea--that’s what the doctor fellow said--that some of her friends care whether she lives or dies, for any one would be rather lonely up there. What? I went round for a minute this morning just to inquire, but I didn’t see her, as they said that----” “I thought you were at the Embassy this morning,” Venice said, in a very natural voice: and she crushed out her cigarette on the marble top of the table, and she picked up her vanity-case. “Yes, so I was,” Napier scowled; “but I just went round there for a minute----”