"If such were the law of things I should have nothing more to say," Seleneck retorted, "but the man who will neither confide in his friend or his wife is running full-tilt against nature, and must pay for the consequences. If I did not let Elsa have her share of my fights, she would be perfectly miserable—and with reason. I should be depriving her of the one thing that keeps a woman happy—trouble."
Wolff laughed.
"You are an ideal couple," he said.
"And you—are you not an ideal couple?"
"Of course—ideal."
Seleneck waited a moment, as though he expected from Wolff's tone that there was more to come, but the younger man remained silent, to all appearances intent on watching the Count, who was walking his purchase towards them. There was no irony or bitterness in his expression, but also none of the happiness which one might have expected from the one half of an "ideal couple," and Seleneck turned away with a sigh of resignation.
"I think strategy and statistics and military secrets have gone to your head," he said. "You are developing sphinx-like habits which are too much for my childish intellect. Still, when you want me you will know where to find me."
Wolff turned, as though struck by a sudden thought.
"I want you now, Seleneck," he said quickly. "At least, there is something I want your advice about. You know, I suppose, that my wife's brother is staying with us?"
"I heard something about it," Seleneck admitted, with a sudden uneasiness. In truth, he had heard a great deal about it—from his wife. Hitherto, neither Nora nor her brother had called at the little flat, and this deliberate, inexplicable breach of etiquette had grown to be something worse than a grievance in Frau von Seleneck's usually pacific heart. But Seleneck knew himself to be no diplomatist, and held his peace.