But Susan’s thoughts had flitted to another feature of the story.
“How strange my marquis should be connected with the case! What an old compliment-monger he was! He vowed he was deeply smitten with me.”
“And then went home and took to his bed!” added Mauville, grimly.
“You wretch!” said the young woman, playfully. “So that is the reason the dear old molly-coddle did not take me to any of the gay suppers he promised? Is it not strange Saint-Prosper has not met him?”
“You forget the marquis has been confined to his room since his brief, but disastrous, courtship of you. His infatuation seems to have brought him to the verge of dissolution.”
“Was it not worth the price?” she retorted, rising. “But I see my sister and Adonis are going, so I must be off, too. So glad to have met you!”
“You are no longer angry with me?”
“No; you are very nice,” she said. “And you have forgiven me?”
“Need you ask?” Pressing her hand. “Good evening, Mistress Susan!”