“No; not much.”
“You said you would not think. Not for twelve days.”
“I shall try not to.”
“You must sleep after breakfast. I’ll have your room darkened and all the horrid flies put out, and Faun will stand outside your door and see that no one passes.”
“What a dear little wife you would make.”
“Do you think I would make a good wife?” she asked anxiously. “That you could do anything with all this raw material?”
“I think you would make the most perfect wife in the world,” he said.
Helena made no secret of her love for Clive. Even if she had been less sure of success, she would have gloried in doing him honor. But, although she did not doubt the issue, she had respect enough for him to scent a battle ahead, and the savage in her was ardent for the fight.
The household was profoundly interested. Helena, despite her love of power, had never been known before to deliberately woo a man from another woman. They knew that she must be mastered by a passion new to her, to ignore a girl whom she liked and respected as she did Mary Gordon. Even the women believed she would win; only Rollins doubted.