"So you have managed to elude the Philistines," she said. "Ah, I guessed that you would say nothing to your friends about our little dinner."
There was an eager note in the words that conveyed a half question. Geoffrey smiled.
"May I venture to suggest that the knowledge is not displeasing to you?" he said.
"Well, I admit it. In the circumstances to explain would have been a bore. Your people cannot call on me and, being old-fashioned, they might not care for you to come here alone. Therefore, being a man of the world, you told them nothing about it."
Geoffrey smiled, as he took the proffered cigarette. Had he not been warned against this woman by Ralph, her subtle flattery would have put him off his guard. It is always so sweet and soothing for a youngster to be taken for a man of the world.
"You have guessed it all," he said. "My grandfather is a grand seigneur. He has no toleration for anything that is not _en règle_. What an exquisite cigarette!"
Mrs. May nodded. They were excellent cigarettes, as also was the liqueur she insisted upon pouring out for Geoffrey with her own hands. He had never tasted anything like it before.
And the dinner when it came was a perfect little poem in its way. Not a flask of wine on the table that had not a history. Long before the meal was over Geoffrey found himself forgetting his caution.
Not that Geoffrey had anything to be afraid of. He knew that in some way this woman was connected with the tragedy of his race; for all that he knew to the contrary, she might be the spirit directing the tragedies.
She was his enemy, though she smiled upon him with a dazzling fascination calculated to turn cooler heads than his. But, at any rate, she had not asked him here to poison him at her own table. Mrs. Mona May was too fine an artist for that.
Presently Geoffrey came out of his dream to find himself talking. Mrs. May seemed to be putting all the questions and he was giving all the answers. And yet, directly, she asked no questions at all. She was sympathetic and interested in the family, as she explained with kindness and feeling.
"And there is that poor blind gentleman," she said sweetly.
Her eyes were bent over her dessert plate. She was peeling a peach daintily. There was just for the fraction of a second a ring in her voice that acted on Geoffrey as a cold douche does to a man whose senses are blurred with liquor. Some instinct told him that they were approaching the crux of the interview.