"Quite true, but those questions led to your analyzing it—and so successfully, too, that I am going to ask another. Tell me if you think he is much attached to Helen?"
A sudden cloud came over the young man's face, and his eyes seemed to darken. "I do not think he is attached to her at all," he replied, bluntly. "Or, if that is saying too much (for everyone must be attached to Helen), I do not believe he would wish to marry her but for her fortune."
"Well," said Marion, philosophically, "I suppose it is the ordinary fate of rich women to be married for their money. And, after all, they do not seem to mind it: they appear happy enough."
"Helen would never be happy," said Frank Morley, impetuously.
"Do not be sure of that," responded the young cynic on the couch. "There is a French proverb, you know, which says: 'Il y a toujours l'un qui baisse et l'un qui tend la joue.' Helen would play the active part in that to perfection."
The young man looked at her with something of indignation. "You may consider yourself a friend of Helen's," he remarked, "but you certainly do not understand her."
"No?" said Marion, smiling. "Then perhaps you will enlighten me, as you have about Mr. Rathborne. I am probably deficient in penetration."
Morley made a gallant effort not to be betrayed into boyish petulance, and succeeded sufficiently to say, with a dignity which amused his tormentor:—
"I am sure that penetration is the last thing you are deficient in, Miss Lynde. But you do not credit others with enough of the quality. I, at least, know when I am laughed at. Now, if you will excuse me, I will go and make my peace with Helen."
He walked out of the room, holding his slim, young figure very erect; and Marion looked after him with a glance of mingled amusement and approval.