Lady Blythe gave a sudden harsh laugh.
"You are right! She certainly was not what I expected! Is the door well shut?"
Surprised at her look and manner, he went to see.
"The door is quite closed," he said, rather stiffly. "One would think we were talking secrets—and we never do!"
"No!" she rejoined, looking at him curiously—"We never do. We are model husband and wife, having nothing to conceal!"
He took up his cigar which he had laid down for a minute, and with careful minuteness flicked off the ash.
"You have something to tell me," he remarked, quietly—"Pray go on, and don't let me interrupt you. Do you object to my smoking?"
"Not in the least."
He stood with his back to the fireplace, a tall, stately figure of a man, and looked at her expectantly,—she meanwhile reclined in a cushioned chair with the folds of her ermine falling about her, like a queen of languorous luxury.
"I suppose," she began—"hardly anything in the social life of our day would very much surprise or shock you—?"