"Oh, yes, I know—working women—professional women—women," said Enid, with an innocent smile, "like Cynthia West."
Hubert gave a slight start; then, to cover it, he changed his position, bringing his arms down and crossing them on his breast.
"You might tell me what she is like," continued Enid, with more playfulness of manner than she generally showed. "You tell me so little about London people! Is she handsome?"
"Yes, very."
"Dark or fair?"
"Very dark."
"Is she an Englishwoman?" pursued Enid.
"I am sure I don't know. I never asked."
"You know her then?"
"What makes you ask all these questions?" said Hubert, as if he had not heard the last. "Who has put Miss West into your head in this way?" He looked annoyed.