He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. Next moment, he had Melusine by the arm. Saren Chen was a tall woman, thin and beautiful in a masculine way, Germanic. "We're forgetting," he said. “There is some mystery about you both,” he exclaimed, with sudden earnestness. She smiled at the sight of him, and thereat his radiation increased.
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