The knock came again. She rose and went to the door.
‘What do you want?’ she asked.
‘I want to come in. It’s I—Eleanor. Open the door. Why don’t you come down?’
Marcia shook out her rumpled skirts, pushed back her hair, and opened the door.
‘Everybody’s asking for you. The ambassador says you were engaged to him for a—— Why, what’s the matter?’
Marcia drew back quickly into the shadow, and Eleanor stepped in and closed the door behind her.
‘What’s the matter, child?’ she inquired again. ‘You’ve been crying! Has Paul——?’ she asked suddenly. Eleanor’s intuitive faculties were abnormally developed. ‘I suppose he was pretty nasty,’ she proceeded, taking Marcia’s answer for granted. ‘He can be on occasion. But, to tell you the truth, I think he has some cause to be. I think you deserve all you got.’
Marcia sank into a chair with a gesture of weariness, and Eleanor walked about the room handling the ornaments.
‘Oh, I knew he was in love with you. There’s nothing subtle about Paul. He wears his heart on his sleeve, if any one ever did. But if you don’t mind my saying so, Marcia, I think you’ve been playing with rather a high hand. It’s hardly legitimate, you know, to deliberately set out to make a man fall in love with you.’
‘I haven’t been playing. I didn’t mean to.’