“Any thing but that,” urged Steinmetz.
Paul came forward, and Maggie rather obviously avoided looking at him.
“Tell us of Paul’s crimes first,” said Etta, rather hurriedly. She glanced at the clock, whither Karl Steinmetz’s eyes had also travelled.
“Oh, Paul,” said Maggie, rather indifferently. Indeed, it seemed as if her lightness of heart had suddenly failed her. “Well, perhaps he is deeply involved in schemes for the resurrection of the Polish kingdom, or something of that sort.”
“That sounds tame,” put in Steinmetz. “I think you would construct a better romance respecting the princess. In books it is always the beautiful princesses who are most deeply dyed in crime.”
Maggie opened her fan and closed it again.
“Well,” she said, tapping on the arm of her chair with it; “I give Etta a mysterious past. She is the sort of person who would laugh and dance at a ball with the knowledge that there was a mine beneath the floor.”
“I do not think I am,” said Etta, with a shudder. She rose rather hurriedly, and crossed the room with a great rustle of silks.
“Stop her!” she whispered, as she passed Steinmetz.