Madame Ghita looked at her for a moment with that clear and penetrating gaze; then she pushed back her chair.
“Our business is arranged, then,” she said, “and I must be going. I have a niece to look after. I promised her that I would not be long. Madame, I have to thank you for a most delightful luncheon.”
“I also,” began Selden, but the countess stopped him.
“If you will remain for a moment,” she said.
Madame Ghita flashed an ironic glance into Selden’s face. What she saw there seemed to amuse her.
“Au revoir, alors,” she said, and in a moment she was gone.
“So you see I was right,” commented the countess, as the door closed behind her.
“Yes,” agreed Selden, a wry smile upon his lips. “Yes; she is, as you said, a sensible woman!”
“Every woman in her position has to be sensible,” the countess pointed out. “She may treat herself to nerves occasionally, but she must never lose her head. And she is right—absolutely right!”
“Oh, of course she is right!” agreed Selden, a little bitterly. “But sometimes it is better to be wrong—gloriously wrong!”