“Old age, old age!” said Prince Khris airily, as he took a cigarette and lighted it. “How happy are you, Duchess, who are in all the wonder-blossoming of your youth!”
“That is a nasty one,” thought Mouse, for she knew that when your children are growing up speeches of this kind have a sub-acid flavor which it is intended should be distinctly tasted by you.
He settled himself comfortably in the lounging-chair he occupied, and blew the perfumed smoke into the air.
“I am especially fortunate to find you alone,” he said. “May I at once mention the purport of my visit, for I know how rare it is to be favored by a tête-à-tête with you when one is, alas, old and uninteresting!”
“Pray say anything you like,” she replied, the sweetness beginning to go out of her manner and the softness out of her voice, for she felt that whatever his purpose might be it was not amiable.
“Allow me, then,” said the old man very suavely, “to ask you if it be true what people say in these places—that you intend to marry my ex-son-in-law, Adrian Vanderlin?”
She was silent from astonishment and annoyance. She did not want to have the keen eyes of this old gambler watching her cards.
“There is not the smallest authority for such a statement,” she answered with hauteur, “and I think you might phrase your inquiry more courteously.”
He smiled and made a little gesture with the cigarette, indicative of apology or derision, as she chose to take it.
“Why should not either or both of them marry again?” she asked, her anxiety on the matter getting the better of her prudence and good taste.