'I know,' she said, 'that something has happened. It was in that letter. You cannot deny it, Margaret. It was in the letter you folded in that hurried manner.'
'The news was,' answered the Primadonna, still vicious.
'I told you so. My dear child, it's not of the slightest use to try to deceive me. I've known you since you were a child.' [{219}]
'I'm not trying to deceive you.'
'When I asked what had happened, you answered, "Nothing." I do not call that very frank, do you?'
'Potts was there, to begin with,' explained Margaret rather crossly.
But Mrs. Rushmore no longer heard. Her head was up, her parasol lay back upon her shoulder, her faded eyes were brighter than before, and the beginning of a social smile wreathed her hitherto grave lips. There was game about, and she was pointing; there were lions to windward.
'There's Mr. Van Torp, my dear,' she said in quite another tone, and very low, 'and unless I'm much mistaken—yes, I knew it! He's with Count Kralinsky. I saw the Count from the window yesterday when he arrived. I hope our friend will present him.'
'I daresay,' Margaret answered indifferently, but surveying the two men through the white mist of her thick veil.
'Yes,' said Mrs. Rushmore with delight, and almost whispering in her excitement. 'He has seen us, and now he's telling the Count who we are.'