"You know it isn't that," he protested. "I only thought possibly—I mean…" He broke off helplessly and touched the back of a chair. "Wouldn't you like to sit down?"
"Shall you sit down if I do?" Anthony shook his head. "Then I shan't either. I'd much rather stand." And, with that, my lady set her back against the side of the fireplace and crossed her shapely ankles.
It must be confessed that she made an arresting picture. Mean as the light was, it woke the luminous beauty of her auburn hair; a sprinkling of freckles gave to her exquisite complexion a jolly look; the bright brown eyes and the merry mouth were those of a Bacchante. Above her plain black frock her throat and chest showed dazzling white; below, the black silk stockings shone with a lustre which was not that of silk alone; over all, the voluminous mink coat framed her from head to toe with a rich luxury.
"And how," said André, "is Gramarye? Have you finished the bridge?"
Anthony stared at her.
"How did you know?" he said.
Miss Strongi'th'arm shrugged her fair shoulders.
"What does it matter?" she said. "Let's talk about something else—if you can. Have you thought over what I said? No. I can see you haven't. Well, well…. Have you laughed since we met?"
"I—I don't think I have."
"Ah…. Why not?"