She laughed with pleasure when I gave her the orchids.
“That’s sweet of you, Harry. You wanted to make me a present, didn’t you, and weren’t sure what to choose. You weren’t quite sure you would be right in making me a present. I might be insulted, and so you chose orchids, and though they’re only flowers they’re dear enough. So I thank you ever so much. And by the way I’ll tell you now that I won’t take presents from you. I live on men, but I won’t live on you. But how you have altered! No one would know you. The other day you looked as if you had been cut down from a gallows, and now you’re very nearly a man again. And now—have you carried out my orders?”
“What orders?”
“You’ve never forgotten? I mean, have you learnt the foxtrot? You said you wished nothing better than to obey my commands, that nothing was dearer to you than obeying me. Do you remember?”
“Indeed I do, and so it shall be. I meant it.”
“And yet you haven’t learnt to dance yet?”
“Can that be done so quickly—in a day or two?”
“Of course. The foxtrot you can learn in an hour. The Boston in two. The Tango takes longer, but that you don’t need.”
“But now I really must know your name.”
She looked at me for a moment without speaking.