He blew a cloud of smoke into the air with a gesture of royal indifference. "Even so,—madame!" he said. "One does these things—with a wife. You see, a wife—is different."
"I—I see," said Toby.
CHAPTER IV
THE IDOL OF PARIS
It was dark when they returned to the hotel, but Paris shone with a million lights. The hotel itself had a festive air. There were flowers in all directions, and a red carpet had been laid upon the steps.
"Rozelle Daubeni is expected," said Saltash.
"Who?" Toby stopped short in the act of descending. Her face shone white in the glare. A moment before she had been laughing but the laugh went into her question with a little choked sound. "Who did you say?" she questioned more coherently.
"Mademoiselle Daubeni—the idol of Paris. Never heard of her?" Saltash handed her lightly down. "She is coming to a dance in the great salon tonight. You shall see her. She is—a thing to remember."
Toby gave a quick shiver. "Yes, I have heard of her too much—too much—I don't want to see her. Shall we dine upstairs?"
"Oh, I think not," said Saltash with decision. "You are too retiring, ma chère. It doesn't become—a lady of your position."