The expressionless Smith was waiting for them, and looked at the two horses with that peculiar intolerance towards their riders which the very best groom in the world cannot refrain from showing. 'Won't you come in and take the chance of what there is for lunch?' she said as Selwyn helped her to dismount. 'N-no, thanks,' he said. She pouted, or pretended to. 'Now, why?' she said as Smith mounted the chestnut, and touching his hat, walked the horses away. 'There is no reason,' he said, smiling, 'except---- Look here; will you come downtown and have dinner with me to-night?' 'You Americans are refreshing,' she said, burrowing the toe of her riding-boot with the point of the crop, 'As a matter of fact, I have to go to dinner to-night at Lady Chisworth's.' 'Then have a headache,' he persisted. 'Please,' as her lips proceeded to form a negative. 'Some one would see us, and Lady Chisworth would declare war.' 'Then let us dine in some obscure restaurant in Soho.' 'There's no such thing, old dear. Soho is always full of the best people dining incog. Almost the only place where you are free from your friends is Claridge's.' 'Well'--his nose crinkled at her remark--'then let us go to Claridge's. Miss Durwent, I know I'm too persistent, but it would be a wonderful ending to a bully day. You know you'll be bored at Lady Chisworth's, and I shall be if you don't come.' 'Humph!' She stood on the first of the stone steps, her agile gracefulness lending itself to the picture of healthy, roseate youth. 'Where could we meet?' 'Let me call for you.' 'N-no. That wouldn't do.' 'Would your mother object?' 'Heavens, no!--but the servants would. You see, English morality is largely living up to your servants--and we met only last night.' 'But you will come?' He crossed his hands behind his back and swung the crop against his boots. 'Mr. Selwyn,' she said, 'your books should be very interesting.' 'From now on they will be,' he said, 'if'---- 'All right,' she interrupted him with something of the staccato mannerism of the evening before. 'I'll motor down in my little car, and we'll go to the Cafe Rouge.' 'Good--wherever that may be.' 'No one has discovered it yet but me,' she said. 'Then I shall have a headache at four, and meet you outside Oxford Circus Tube at seven.' 'You're a real sport, Miss Durwent.' 'Ah, monsieur'--she smiled with a roguishness that completely unsettled him for the remainder of the day--'have you no sympathy for my headache?' CHAPTER VII. THE CAFE ROUGE. I. Monsieur Anton Beauchamp was the proprietor of the Cafe Rouge in London. Monsieur Anton Beauchamp was once proprietor of the Cafe Bleu in Paris.