“You mean Susan Duran, the actress?”
“An actress!” exclaimed the nobleman. “A charming creature at any rate!”
“All froth; a bubble!” added Mauville impatiently.
“How entertaining! Any lovers?” leered the nobleman.
“A dozen; a baker’s dozen, for all I know!”
“What is her history?” said the marquis eagerly.
“I never inquired.”
“Sometimes it’s just as well,” murmured the other vaguely. “How old is she?”
“How can you tell?” answered Mauville.
“In Paris I kept a little book wherein was entered the passe-parole of every pretty woman; age; lovers platonic! When a woman became a grandmother, I 247 put a black mark against her name, for I have always held,” continued the nobleman, wagging his head, “that a woman who is a grandmother has no business to deceive a younger generation of men. But present me to Miss Susan at once, my dear friend. I am all impatience to meet her.”