'I smoke even in bed,' said Marion, regarding him steadily. I was at a loss to understand why she told this deliberate falsehood.
'So do I,' said William calmly.
'I smoke in the bath,' continued Marion.
'By Jove, so do I,' said William, looking at her with a new interest. 'But don't you find it rather awkward when you're washing your back?'
Marion looked rather scandalized, as though she considered William's remark in bad taste. But she had only herself to blame after all. She was silent and rather moody after that, until the episode of the photograph occurred. We were assembled in the drawing-room, and I suddenly noticed that a photo of Marion which stands on the mantelpiece had been removed from its frame.
'Why, Marion, what has become of your photo?' I inquired.
There was, after all, nothing unusual in its disappearance. It was one that she did not like and she had often threatened to remove it. What was my astonishment now to see her spring to her feet and, going white with suppressed anger, exclaim, 'Who has dared to take it? It is a piece of unwarrantable impertinence. Who has dared, I say?'
I saw William looking at her in surprise—it was, indeed, something even deeper than that. Fascinated horror seems a more apt expression.
'I insist on its being recovered,' went on Marion.
A strange exclamation from William made us all look at him. 'Women,' he said, 'are beyond me—utterly beyond me, I repeat.'