"Well, suppose I took Thusis more or less seriously?"
"Do you?"
"I didn't say I did. I said suppose I do? Who is she? With all her dainty personality and undoubted marks of birth and breeding—with the irrefutable evidence of manner and speech and presence—with all these ear-marks by which both she and Clelia seem plainly labeled—who is Thusis?"
"I don't know," he said soberly.
"Nor I. And yet it is apparent that she has taken no pains to play the part of a peasant or of a servant for our benefit. Evidently she doesn't care—for I venture to believe she's a good actress in addition to the rest of her ungodly cleverness.
"But she seems to think it immaterial as to whether or not you and I wonder who she may be. Mentally, Thusis snaps her fingers at us, Smith. So does Clelia."
"Clelia is gentler—more girlish and immature," he said, "but she makes no bones about having been in better circumstances. She's sweet but she's no weakling. My curiosity amuses her and she pokes a lot of fun at me."
"Doesn't she tell you anything? Doesn't she give you any hint?"
"No, she doesn't. She's friendly—willing to stop dusting and exchange a little innocent banter with me.... Do you know, O'Ryan, I never before saw such a pretty girl. She's only eighteen. Did you know it?"
"No, I didn't."