CHAPTER XLVIII.
THE HUSBAND'S KISS.
Lady Marion never did anything by halves. It was seldom that her calm, quiet nature was stirred, but when that happened she felt more deeply, perhaps, than people who express their feelings with great ease and rapidity. She was amused herself at her own great liking for Madame Vanira; it was the second great love of her life; the first had been for her husband, this was the next. She talked of her incessantly, until even Lord Chandos wondered and asked how it was.
"I cannot tell," she replied; "I think I am infatuated. I am quite sure, Lance, that if I had been a gentleman, I should have followed Madame Vanira to the other side of the world. I think her, without exception, the most charming woman in the world."
She raised her eyes with innocent tenderness to his face.
"Are you jealous because I love her so much?" she asked.
He shuddered as he heard the playful, innocent words, so different from the reality.
"I should never be jealous of you, Marion," he replied, and then turned the conversation.
Nothing less than a visit to Madame Vanira would please Lady Chandos. She asked her husband if he would go to the Cedars with her, and wondered when he declined. The truth was that he feared some chance recognition, some accidental temptation; he dared not go, and Lady Marion looked very disappointed.
"I thought you liked Madame Vanira," she said. "I am quite sure, Lance, that you looked as if you did."