"Haven't I good manners too?" demanded the girl, in a caressing tone, crossing her hands upon her friend's arm.
"Very bad ones, sometimes. Now, Garda, don't you really think—"
"I never really think, I never even think without the really. What is the use of getting all white with thinking?—you can't set anything straight by it. You are sometimes so white that you frighten me."
"Never mind my whiteness; I never have any color," said Margaret, a nervous impatience showing itself suddenly. Then she controlled herself. "Are you thinking of having another sitting to-morrow?"
"Perhaps; it isn't quite certain yet. I don't know whether you know that Lucian is trying to persuade Madam Giron to take him in for a while?"
"To take him in?"
"Them-m-m," said Garda, "since you insist upon it."
"I can't imagine Madame Giron consenting," said Margaret. She was much surprised by this intelligence.
"She wouldn't unless it were to please Adolfo; if he should urge her to do it. And I think he will urge her, because—because he and Mrs. Spenser are such great friends."
"They're nothing of the sort. You know as well as I do that she only talks to him because her husband likes him."