"A god!" she repeated, nodding again, complacently; "He can do anything! I feel that all the time. He could rule the whole world!"
Gwent's nerves "jumped" for the second time. Roger Seaton's own words—"I'll be master of the world" knocked repeatingly on his brain with an uncomfortable thrill. He gathered up the straying threads of his common sense and twisted them into a tough string.
"That's all nonsense!" he said, as gruffly as he could—"He's not a god by any means! I'm afraid you think too much of him, Miss—Miss—er—"
"Soriso," finished Manella, gently—"Manella Soriso."
"Thank you!" and Gwent sought for a helpful cigar which he lit—"You have a very charming name! Yes—believe me, you think too much of him!"
"You say that? But—are you not his friend?"
Her tone was reproachful.
But Gwent was now nearly his normal business self again.
"No,—I am scarcely his friend"—he replied—"'Friend' is a big word,—it implies more than most men ever mean. I just know him—I've met him several times, and I know he worked for a while under Edison—and—and that's about all. Then I THINK"—he was cautious here—"I THINK I've seen him at the house of a very wealthy lady in New York—a Miss Royal—"
"Ah!" exclaimed Manella—"That is the name of the fairy woman who came here!"