"—the manners of a boor and the impudence of the devil," added Hilda spitefully.
Hermia laughed but the Countess Olga's narrowed eyes passed Hilda scornfully.
"Any one can have good manners. They're the hallmark of mediocrity. And as for impudence—that is the one sin a man may commit which a woman forgives."
"I can't," said Hilda.
The Countess Olga's right shoulder moved toward her ear the fraction of an inch.
"He's hateful, Hermia," continued Hilda quickly, "a gorilla of a man, with a lowering brow, untidy hair, and a blue chin—"
"He is adorable," insisted Olga.
"How very interesting!" laughed Hermia. "An adorable philosopher, with the impudence of the devil, and the blue chin of a gorilla! When did you meet this logical—the zoological paradox?"
"Oh, in Paris. I knew him only slightly, but he moved in a set whose edges touched mine—the talented people of mine. He had already made his way. He has been back in America only a year. We met early in the winter quite by chance. You know the rest. He has painted my portrait—a really great portrait. You shall see."
"Oh, it was this morning we were going, wasn't it? I'll be ready in a moment, dear."