The other fell silent, while Miss Wayland inquired, curiously: "What is this mysterious woman like?"
"She is young, refined—thoroughly nice in every way."
"Good-looking also, I dare say?"
"Very."
She was about to pursue her inquiries further, but the dinner was finished and Mr. Wayland had asked for his favorite cigars, so she rose and Boyd accompanied her, leaving the others to smoke. But, strangely enough, Marsh remained in such a state of preoccupation, even after their departure, that Mr. Wayland's attempts at conversation elicited only the vaguest and shortest of answers.
In the music-room Mildred turned upon Boyd. "Why didn't you tell me about this woman before?"
"I didn't think of her."
"And yet she is young, beautiful, refined, lives a romantic sort of existence, and entertained you—" She tossed her head.
"Are you jealous?" he inquired, with a smile.
"Of such a person? Certainly not."