The promise not to make a pass at her naturally crossed my mind. It
was, evidently, a one-sided commitment. At this season there weren't
many guests in the hotel so she'd had no difficulty in moving near me.
I wondered whether she would admit it or pretend it was a coincidence;
and bet the latter way. _Honi soit qui mal n'y pense pas._
I checked myself in the mirror. Then I knocked on her door. The proper
hall one.
She wore the gardenias in her hair--a white dress with a gold border
stenciled around the hem--and her shoes and pocketbook were gold, too.
The big diamond had evidently been sent down to the safe-deposit boxes,
or left on her bureau--depending on which sort of person she was. Her
hair was done up--with the curls among the flowers. She looked as
attractive as she intended. Cool, too.
"Am I stunning?"
I nodded. "But not ravishing. If the Hindus had untouchables at the top
of the caste system--white priestesses, say--you'd qualify."
"You obviously don't know much about priestesses."