Over his coffee and a cigarette his manner showed some improvement. Still, he had not taken Alexandra’s measure. She was telling Maggy of her sudden luck in obtaining an engagement, and that she was going to stay with Mrs. Lambert. Maggy was delighted. "Oh, I’m glad!" she said enthusiastically. "It’s tip-top, Lexie. Fred, did you hear that? Lexie’s going on tour with Mrs. Lambert. Isn’t it splendid for her?" "Splendid for Mrs. Lambert. Rather!" concurred Woolf, with heavy gallantry. "You’ll have plenty of opportunities of ingenue parts with the lady," he went on, knowingly. "You’ll suit her to a T. You’ll play propriety, of course! Dashed funny, that." "I don’t understand," said Alexandra. "Oh, come, we’re none of us as good as we look. Of course you’ve heard about Mrs. Lambert and Lord Chalfont? I told you everybody was doing it." Her crimson face and indignant eyes did not warn him of the blunder he was committing. Maggy was playing nervously with the crystallized sugar, afraid of angering Woolf by stemming the tide of his untactful garrulity. He bent forward, lowering his voice. "It’s like this," he said, and began to give details of a liaison which Alexandra had no reason to credit, details which were offensive and unnecessary. She was genuinely shocked. Involuntarily she pushed back her chair while he was still talking and made the first excuse she could think of. "I shall have to be going now, Maggy. I’m so sorry. I—I’m late for an appointment as it is. I—I’ll come and say good-by before I go on tour." "Must you really go?" asked Maggy weakly. She knew that Alexandra could stand no more. It meant that her poor little attempt at concord between the only two people she cared about had come to nought. "Fred, tell the waiter to order a taxicab." "I won’t wait for that," said Alexandra. "I shall be too late. I ought to go at once. I shall find one in the street." She managed a reassuring smile to show Maggy that though her feelings were outraged she meant to get over it, and let it make no difference to their friendship. Now that she had met Woolf and learnt the sort of man he was, nothing would have induced her to waver in allegiance to Maggy. Maggy needed her though she might never say it. She knew she could not bring herself to meet Woolf again, even for Maggy’s sake. He insisted on escorting her out of the restaurant and putting her into a cab. He was aware now from her almost monosyllabic rejoinders that he had made a mistake, spoken in bad taste. It was suddenly obvious to him that she was a lady—the "real thing," and that he had offended her. Simultaneously with this came the desire to know more of her. "I believe you’re annoyed," he said. "Have I been a bit too plain-spoken?" "Here’s my taxi," she said, disregarding the question.