There was a pause before Marian answered in a constrained voice: “Yes, he sailed to-day.”
Howard was tying his bow. He paused at the curious tone, then smiled mysteriously to himself. He put on his waistcoat and coat and knocked on the half-open door. “May I come in?” he asked.
“Yes—I’m waiting for dinner to be announced.”
She was sitting before the fire, very beautiful in her evening gown. She seemed not to observe that he had entered but stared on into the flames. He stood beside her, looking down at her with the half mocking, half tender smile. Presently he sat upon the arm of her chair and took one of her hands. “Poor, friendless, beautiful lady,” he said softly.
She glanced up quickly, her cheeks flaming but her eyes clear and frank. “Why do you say that?” she asked in the tone of one who knows why.
“Other women will not be her friends because they are jealous of her, and as for the men—how can a man be really a friend to a woman, a fascinating, sympathetic woman?”
Marian hid her face against the lapel of his coat. “He told me,” she whispered, “and then he went away.”
“He always does tell her. But——”
“But—what?”
“She doesn’t always send him away. Poor fellow! Still, he went into it with his eyes open.”