"There," said Madame behind the screen, "you have no rival in town now for beauty."
"I'll be here again next Tuesday."
"Same time?"
"Yes, in the morning."
A woman emerged from behind the screen. She possessed a bold beauty, the sort that appeals to men without intellect. She was dressed extravagantly: too many furbelows, too many jewels, too many flowers. Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene recognized her instantly and turned her head toward the window. She heard the woman pass by her, enter the hall and leave the house. She saw her walk quickly away, stop suddenly as if she had forgotten something, open her large purse, turn its contents inside out, replace them, and proceed. But a letter lay on the sidewalk unnoticed. Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene secretly hoped that it would remain there till she made her departure.
"Handsome woman, isn't she?" said Madame. "I don't know what it is, but they are always good-looking."
"Who is she?" asked Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene, who knew very well who the woman was.
"She is one of Mr. McQuade's lady friends."
"Indeed?"
"Yes." Madame was shrewd. She saw that it wouldn't do to tell Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene anything about a woman who could in no way be of use to her. "Have you heard of the Sybil?"