Marten hesitated; though only for an instant. His wife was more adorable than ever since she had discovered what wonders an illimitable purse could achieve in the boutiques of the Rue de la Paix; but there was ever at the back of his mind a suspicion that she looked on her past life as a thing that was dead, and was schooling herself to an artificial gaiety in these glittering surroundings of rank and fashion.
“The truth is that I am vexed at something which has happened in Colorado—at Bison,” he said.
“You have had no ill news of Dad?” she cried, in quick alarm.
“No, he’s all right. I told you he had sold the ranch. Well, the purchaser is that young engineer, Derry Power.”
He watched her closely; but trust any woman to mislead a man when she knows that her slightest change of expression will be marked and understood. Mrs. Marten’s eyes opened wide, and she had no difficulty in feigning honest surprise.
“Derry Power!” she almost gasped. “What in the world does he want with the ranch?”
“It seems that he contrived to find the main vein which we lost in the Esperanza mine.”
“Oh, is that it?” She was indifferent, almost bored. Her mind was in the valley of the Loire.
“Yes. That idiot Page was kept in the dark very neatly; so he sold the mill at a scrap price—by my instructions, I admit—and now Power and MacGonigal have everything in their own hands.”
Nancy’s eyebrows arched, and she laughed gleefully. “Just fancy Mac blossoming into a mining magnate!” she cried. “But why should this affair worry you, Hugh?”