“If the gentlemen you have been used to have taught you to expect insults,” said Acton, “I am glad I am what I am. You had much better come to Niagara.”
“If you wish to ‘amuse’ me,” the Baroness declared, “you need go to no further expense. You amuse me very effectually.”
He sat down opposite to her; she still held her fan up to her face, with her eyes only showing above it. There was a moment’s silence, and then he said, returning to his former question, “Have you sent that document to Germany?”
Again there was a moment’s silence. The expressive eyes of Madame Münster seemed, however, half to break it.
“I will tell you—at Niagara!” she said.
She had hardly spoken when the door at the further end of the room opened—the door upon which, some minutes previous, Eugenia had fixed her gaze. Clifford Wentworth stood there, blushing and looking rather awkward. The Baroness rose, quickly, and Acton, more slowly, did the same. Clifford gave him no greeting; he was looking at Eugenia.
“Ah, you were here?” exclaimed Acton.
“He was in Felix’s studio,” said Madame Münster. “He wanted to see his sketches.”
Clifford looked at Robert Acton, but said nothing; he only fanned himself with his hat. “You chose a bad moment,” said Acton; “you hadn’t much light.”
“I hadn’t any!” said Clifford, laughing.