Follow a Stranger

speaks French, ma foi! It is ten times worse. French is a

much faster language than English, of course!”

He left for his own apartment and Kate went to her room

to change for dinner before the concert. She had not yet

managed to discover why Jean-Paul had invited her. He

had not mentioned Pallas, or Marc, or anything but the

merest polite small talk. Yet she still felt that he had

invited her here for a specific reason.

She wore her white voile dress, as it was now her best

dress, and Clare Murray admired it volubly.

Jean-Paul arrived on time, kissed Clare Murray’s hand

and took Kate off with him to dinner.

“Why did you ask me to come to Paris?” she asked, over

their coffee, having decided it was time to be brutally

frank.

Jean-Paul’s hand hesitated as he lit his cigarette. Then he

smiled at her. “I wanted to see you again.”

“Will Pallas be there tonight?” she asked flatly.

He flushed. “ I ... I do not know,” he murmured without

meeting her eyes.

“Jean-Paul!” she reproached him. “It was a good idea for

you to make her jealous, but not yet! You really must be

more patient. I thought you agreed that you might try

again in a few years?”

He smoked nervously, rather red around the ears.

“Well,” he began, “you see, Kate, I met her last week, by

chance. She was at a party. Pyrakis was talking about you

to Marc, and Pallas kept looking at me. She made a joke

about you and me! But she was not really laughing, you

know? And I thought she seemed ...” he shrugged