Somewhat irrelevantly he glanced at the next few boxes where the rest of Mrs. Montressor’s guests were.
“Is your husband here to-night?” he asked.
“My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. “No, he wouldn’t come here of all places—just now. He dined, and then pleaded a political engagement. I was supposed to do the same, but I didn’t.”
“You know,” he said with some hesitation, “that your sister is singing.”
She nodded.
“Of course. I want to hear how she does it.”
“She does it magnificently,” he declared. “I think—we all think that she is wonderful.”
She looked at him with curious eyes.
“I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. Have you seen much of her lately?”
“Nothing at all,” he answered.