Waltzing slowly the length of the dusky room, she moved with a flower lightness, a spirit-like unreality that touched the artist in him.
"You look like an orchid come to life in the depths of a forest."
Margaret stopped and swept him a curtsey.
"Thanks. To affect one's own husband like that is an achievement."
Gregory smiled. This new manner of Margaret's, half flirtatious, half cynical, amused him.
"Then what will happen to old Burnham? He'll be downright dizzy."
"Don't be coarse, Gregory. I don't like it. Besides, you know I do it for you."
"Oh, I'm not jealous. Not a bit."
"You may laugh, but it is good business. Weren't you asked to join The Meadow Club after our last dinner?"
"I was."