"Rather romantic, isn't it? Like Paolo! Don't you remember how lovely Paolo was?"
"But Mr. Lisle isn't a bit like that. Still, nobody could have a chance against her." Marie's tone was impartial, impersonal, not at all resentful. Sidney Barslow's triumphant march swept all obstacles from his path, even the guerilla attack of insurgent memories. They could not cause delay or loss; the sputter of their harmless fire rather added a zest. "He was very attractive in his way," she reflected with a smile. "And I really do believe—no, I musn't tell you!"
And in the end she did not. She had, however, said enough to account for Amabel's exclamation of "Well, it's a blessing you didn't! I like Arthur Lisle, but to compare him with Sidney!"
"I've got what I want, anyhow," said Marie, with a luxurious nestling-down on her pillow. "How are you and Raymond getting on?" she added with a laugh.
"Marie, as if I should think of it, as if I should let him say a word, oh, for ever so long! One can't be too careful!"
"But you mustn't make too much of it. He was very young and—and ignorant."
"He's not so ignorant now," Amabel remarked drily.
"Sidney'll keep him in order. You may depend upon that. You see, he can't fool Sidney. He knows too much. He'd know in a minute if Raymond was up to anything."
"Oh, that does make it much safer, of course. Still——" She broke into a giggle—"Perhaps he won't want it after all, Marie!"
"Oh yes, he will, you goose!" said Marie. And so they chattered on till the clock struck midnight.