"I am not sure," she said, "that you have not to-night dispelled
an illusion."
"What manner of one?" he asked.
"Above all things," she went on, "I have always looked upon you
as wicked. Most people do. I think that is one reason why so
many of the women find you attractive. I suppose it is why I
have found you attractive."
The smile was back upon his lips. He bowed a little, and,
leaning forward, dropped a chunk of ice into his whisky and soda.
"Dear Lady Cynthia," he murmured, "don't tell me that I am going
to slip back in your estimation into some normal place."
"I am not quite sure," she said deliberately. "I have always
looked upon you as a kind of amateur criminal, a man who loved
black things and dark ways. You know how weary one gets of the
ordinary code of morals in these days. You were such a
delightful antidote. And now, I am not sure that you have not
shaken my faith in you."
"In what way?"
"You really seem to have been engaged to-night in a very sporting
and philanthropic enterprise. I imagined you visiting some den
of vice and mixing as an equal with these terrible people who
never seem to cross the bridges. I was perfectly thrilled when I
put on your chauffeur's coat and hat and followed you."
"The story of my little adventure is a simple one," Sir Timothy
said.
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