“Splendid—Collin has a wonderful court, I want to take you up there—”
Lissa’s pink lips were thin and shrewd. “Come, dear,” she said to Mark in her softest voice, “the little girl will be hoarse to-morrow if you keep her chattering like a magpie.”
And Thurley, as Ernestine told Hobart afterwards, sank in her first feminine harpoon! She rose as obediently as if she were but half her age, saying,
“We can plan about it later, your aunt is calling you!”
After which Lissa, snarls and purrs all in one, and Mark more confused and brief in his farewells than Ernestine had ever seen him, made an inharmonious exit. And Ernestine kissed Thurley and twirled her about, saying, “Oh beautiful—beautiful—beautiful!”
CHAPTER XVI
Like all clever women who have met defeat often enough to escape it in the future, Lissa realized the best way to vanquish an enemy was to know her intimately. Therefore, she invited Thurley to dinner at the Hotel Particular. The pink card looked very innocent as Thurley read in Lissa’s exaggerated handwriting,
“I’ve asked no one else, dear child, because I want really to know you. And I shall not take no for an answer—I’ll come and get you if you don’t appear at the stroke of seven.”