She bent down to greet him through the open window. “At least—” Suddenly she remembered that he might have come in a mood of grim inquiry rather than friendly reconciliation, and her smile faded anxiously—”at least, I hope it is.”“Why shouldn’t it be?” He smiled at her in the old way, as he opened the door, and she felt her heart warm almost physically, as though it literally basked in the rays of that glorious moment. “Come on—I’m taking you to supper, and I’m not even listening to any excuses.”“You won’t have to,” she informed him happily, as she slipped into the seat beside him. “Oh, Philip, what a lovely surprise!”“But I sent up word that I’d be waiting for you. Didn’t you get the message?” he inquired.“Yes. But you were just described as a very charming English monsieur. I thought—”“What did you think—with your long trail of admirers?” he wanted to know, but his tone was the half teasing, half affectionate one she loved.“I thought—it was Paul,”
