In a moment she returned, dropped him a bit of curtsy, and informed him that her mistress would receive him.
He rewarded her with another caress, which she accepted with assumed shyness—and a wicked little pinch.
“I’ll pay you later for the pinch!” he tossed back, softly.
She answered with an affected shrug and a wink.
“Elise is remarkably pretty!” Madeline Spencer remarked when he entered the boudoir. She was sitting up in bed, eating her rolls and coffee—a bewildering negligee of cerise and cream heightening the effect of her dead-white colouring and raven-black hair.
Marston drew in his breath sharply, then sighed.
“And you are ravishingly beautiful, my lady,” he replied.
“You like this robe?” she asked.
“I—like you; what you may wear is incidental. It merely increases the effect of your wonderful personality.”
“My good Marston!” she smiled. “What a faithful friend you are; always seeing my few good points and being blind to my many bad.”