She laughed musically, a deep, soft laugh. The eyes which were raised to Von Salzinger's were full of amusement.
"The same headstrong, impetuous Ludwig. The years have not changed you," she said, shaking her head. "Ruxton Farlow is just one of many men friends I have over here. You cannot expect a woman of my position to live the life of a nun. I dined with him last evening. When we encountered you he was driving me home in his car. Have I committed a crime?"
"Here?"
There was a subtle brutality in the man's monosyllable.
Vita flushed. The amusement in her eyes had changed to a sparkle of anger. She shrugged.
"If you adopt that tone I have nothing more to say on the matter."
The man realized his mistake and changed his tone at once.
"Forgive me, Vita," he cried hastily. "It—it is jealousy. I cannot bear to think of you with that man—alone—or any other man. They have no right to you. They are natural enemies of our country. I—I am a Prussian, and you—you belong to our country. Can you not understand my feelings? Ach! It is maddening to think."
Vita's smile was wholly charming as she glanced at him across the tea-table.
"You are going to make me quarrel with you—again. And I don't want to quarrel. Tell me—about yourself and your affairs. They are more interesting. Tell me of that upward path—of that high command you occupy."