"Conrad Lagrange and I. He is going to live with me, you know."
"Oh!"
It is remarkable how much meaning a woman can crowd into that one small syllable; particularly, when she draws a little away from you as she speaks it.
"Why," he murmured apologetically, "don't you approve?"
Mrs. Taine's beautiful eyebrows went up inquiringly--"And why should I either approve or disapprove?"
The young man was saved by the arrival of his guests at the porch steps, and by the appearance of Conrad Lagrange, in the doorway.
"How delightful!" exclaimed Mrs. Taine, heartily; as she, in turn, greeted the famous novelist. "Mr. King was just telling me that you were going to share this dear little place with him. I quite envy you both."
The others had passed into the house.
"You are sometimes guilty of saying twisty things yourself, aren't you?" returned the man; and, as he spoke, his remarkable eyes were fixed upon her as though reading her innermost thoughts.
She flushed under his meaning gaze, but carried it off gaily with--"Oh dear! I wonder if my maid has hooked me up properly, this time?"