Now, you and I can gossip at a gate, and Honi soit qui mal y pense. So was I, in fact. You're in a more serious scrape than you imagine. ’ It was the Press who forced the identity upon me. I gather you wish to go up in some fantastic get-up, wrapped about in your opera cloak, and that after the festivities you propose to stay with these friends of yours, and without any older people in your party, at an hotel. ’ He sat looking her over in silence for a moment or two, his thoughts revolving around the name and the way it fitted so exquisitely on quite another set of features.
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