“Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. You skulk in shadows, following an émigré. Think of those days in Paris. Presently the odour of burnt powder mingled agreeably with that of the incense. In her case the barrier was not selfishness but the perception that her interest would be misinterpreted, naturally. What of madame, his wife?’ ‘You know more of her than me,’ the girl said with a look of scorn. ’ ‘What? But—’ ‘Precisely, Hilary. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers.
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