"But I——" Mary hesitated. She was tasting wine for the first time in her life, she had been tired and nerve-wracked, and now, though thoughts danced through her mind with unfamiliar rapidity, utterance seemed to her suddenly, and somewhat amusingly, to have become too clumsy to keep pace with them. "I thought," she elaborately persisted, "that—you—said—she—was rich."
"She is," said Max; "only she's got a big house she can't all use herself. Lots of people fill their houses that vay in N'York."
Mary started to formulate a reply that came glistening along the dim horizon of her mind; but just then there was a light tap at the door.
"Come in!" called Max, and Mrs. Légère re-entered.
The precaution of her hostess forced a smile from Mary.
"Why did you knock?" she asked.
But Mrs. Légère shook her corn-colored locks wisely.
"I don't ever disturb lovers," she said.
She sat down opposite the pair she was addressing and, without noticing that Max had appropriated her glass, discovered a fresh one on the mantelpiece, poured herself a mouthful of the wine and then decanted the rest for Mary.
She had just put down the empty bottle when the bell rang a second time.