"When one comes to think of it, a good woman might be as dangerous as the other," said Marston.
Mabel frowned. She saw where her lover's remark led, but doubted if the others did. She forced a laugh when Wyndham looked round.
"Bob has a flash of imagination now and then," she said.
"I expect Bob would sooner leave out the witches, now he knows something about Ghost Leopards and Voodoo," Wyndham replied. "Anyhow, I think the mummery round the cauldron rather crude; the act was, no doubt, written to meet the spirit of the times. Temptation by repulsive hags would not appeal to an up-to-date young man. My notion of a tempter is an urbanely ironical Mephistopheles."
Marston said nothing. He remembered the Bat's strange, mocking grin; and then roused himself and laughed. He was getting morbid; the wretched fever had shaken him. He joked with Flora until the curtain rose and when it came down on the closing scene resolved to forget the play.
"I've ordered supper. It will brace us up," he said.
They went to a crowded restaurant, and Marston liked the tinkle of glass, voices, and cheerful laughter, but he shivered when they left the glittering room and got into the car.
"Put the rug round you before we start," said Mabel.
"I think I will," Marston replied, apologetically. "I feel as if my temperature was up; malaria has an annoying trick of coming back. When it does come back, you get moody and pessimistic. Sorry if I bored you to-night!"
"Perhaps it was malaria, but I wasn't bored," said Mabel, with an indulgent smile.