“One who has been accustomed to refinement. My private correspondence is largely social.”
The handsome scoundrel’s eye sunk under the keen woman’s direct thrust.
“There may be an objection on the part of the young lady, your social surroundings are of the gayest.”
Miss Marble was already familiar through the “blanket sheets,” with the comet-like cavorting of the young Western star in these Eastern skies.
“There is a business secretary, always there on duty, an exemplary young woman now in my employ, so, you can dismiss all your fears,” insidiously remarked Vreeland, “and, for the right person, I will pay you any commission that you ask.”
The eyes of the two adroit schemers met.
“I want a woman whom I can train up into my own ways,” meaningly said Vreeland. “I think that you understand me, now.”
The pale-green eyes of Miss Marble shone with glee at the prospect of some other woman “with reluctant feet” going blindly on to the thirty-third degree initiation of the hard ways of New York.
“I do, perfectly,” she replied, her thin, pitiless lips pressed closely together.
“How shall I select the one who is best fitted to suit you?” Her voice was slightly shaky.