"Absurd child!"
The reproof was gentle; Jacqueline's nimble tongue took advantage of the chance given it.
"And tell me, madame? He play his part gallantly—Monsieur Édouard?" Never before had she dared so much; but never before had Maxine's eyes looked as they looked to-night.
Before replying, Maxine leaned her elbows on the table and took her face between her hands.
"It was past belief—that also!" she said at last. "He seemed a different being. I cannot understand it."
"He seemed of a greater interest, madame?"
"Of a strangely greater interest."
"In what manner, madame? Looks? Words?" Cunning as a monkey, little Jacqueline was all soft innocence in the method of her questioning.
"In every way—manner—speech—expression of thought. And, Jacqueline"—she turned her face, all radiant and unsuspicious, to her interlocutor—"I made a discovery! He loves Max!"
Jacqueline, with downcast eyes and discreet bearing, carefully removed the empty tea-cup.