“I recognized it. I recognize it still more as I remain in your presence. I will be frank with you, I will be candid. I see you have a copy of the Illustrated Ladies’ Joy on the table. I should like to speak to you alone,” she said in an undertone.
Madame Florence gave a look at the younger lady, which she interpreted, and immediately disappeared from the room.
“I may speak to you in confidence?”
“Certainly.”
“Give me the number of the Illustrated Ladies’ Joy for the week before last.”
“Certainly. Here it is.”
Regina turned with trembling fingers to the answers to correspondents on matters connected with the toilette. “Read that,” she said, pointing to the answer which was headed “broken-hearted Miranda.”
“I am that woman; I am ‘broken-hearted Miranda.’”
“Dear, dear, dear,” said Madame Florence, “are you really sure that it is so?”
“I am afraid so. My husband is the noblest of men—generous, brave, true-hearted—he has been got hold of, Madame Florence.”