Her reply was interrupted by Hurley’s quiet entrance.
“Count de Morny, Miss Margaret,” he announced, holding back the portière, as the Frenchman appeared in the doorway.
“Ah, Mademoiselle,” he exclaimed, advancing with outstretched hand, “it is ze great plaiser to find zat you are in.”
Peggy was instantly conscious of the restrained antagonism between the two men as they greeted each other.
“Monsieur Tillinghast and I, like ze great minds, sink alike,” smiled de Morny. “We each decide to come here. We shall wear out ze chairs.”
“To-day it is just how-de-do and good-by, Count,” said Dick, briefly. “Unfortunately I must hurry away. Good-by again, Peggy.”
De Morny’s eyes sparkled with anger as he watched their cordial leave taking. As Dick disappeared he drew his chair closer to Peggy and proceeded to improve his opportunity.
“You look fatigue, Mademoiselle,” glancing keenly at her.
“I have been doing too much,” confessed Peggy. “Fortunately Lent will be here soon, and I can then take a much-needed rest.”
“It ees hard to go every night and in ze day time, too, yes,” sympathized de Morny. “I nevaire haf known so fas a season. But I like eet. I feel as keen as a mink.”