She listened with a conventional smile, but her eyes did not warm to any enthusiasm as she said lightly, “Thank you, but I have had nothing to do with it. Such a partner as I”—there was a slight emphasis on the word—“is not entitled to claim any share in the congratulations.”
“That is not true,” said Image warmly; “a wife is the closest and best partner a man can have; and I am sure, if the truth were known, that most of our famous men owed much of their success to their wives’ co-operation. The partner in the house is often far more important than the partner in the office.”
“Mr. Image, you really are the most refreshing person,” said a studiously lazy voice from under an enormous mass of lancer plumes at his left. “Isn’t he, Claudia? You are the one faithful appreciative soul in a multitude of scoffers howling in the wilderness. You almost induce a woman to believe in herself.”
Image laughed and peered under the feathery erection to discover that it was Rhoda Carnegie, a cousin of Claudia’s and a woman he had known in Society for many years. She was married to an unsuccessful playwright, a “one play” man, who on the strength of a singleton had induced her to marry him, to their mutual regret. Some people raved about her beauty in superlatives, while others merely dubbed her “queer-looking.” No one refrained from expressing an opinion about her. Her looks and manners were of the arrogant “I-must-be-obeyed” order, and she had a reputation for being irresistible where she chose to charm.
“Ah! Mrs. Carnegie, I could not see who it was. How do you do? I am so glad you agree with me.”
“I don’t in the least,” she responded languidly, through half-shut eyes. “It’s only bad women who play a big part in men’s lives; that’s why I gave up being good. The nice, virtuous, sympathetic wife is—just a super most of the time, unnoticed in the wings. And who wants to be super?”
With a careless laugh Claudia moved away to greet a new arrival. Rhoda Carnegie watched her with a sort of detached, cold-blooded speculation.
“Claudia was never cut out to be a super. I see signs that she will shortly get beyond that stage, for Gilbert gives no one a chance to distinguish himself. He always plays lead. But Claudia is not her mother’s daughter for nothing,” she drawled, playing with a set of golden baubles in her lap. She had but a small income of her own and her husband had less, but Rhoda Carnegie was noted for her extravagance. How she got her very handsome toilettes was a mystery. At least, perhaps it was not an insolvable one to those who knew her well; but a mystery is always more decent than a scandal.
Image listened, rather startled. Then he remembered the type of woman to whom he was speaking. It was said that she made an art of demolishing reputations in as few words as possible.