‘Oh yes, I do. Tell me, what is your cousin like?’
After some slight further urging, George described Alma’s personal appearance as closely as possible. Mrs. Montmorency listened quietly, taking note of all the details of the description. Then she tapped George with her fan, and laughed outright.
‘Then I was right after all!’ she cried.
‘It was Miss Alma Craik—that’s her name, isn’t it?’
‘Yes; but, good heavens, it is simply impossible! Alma in company with that scoundrel, over there in France? You must be mistaken!’
But Mrs. Montmorency was quite certain that she had made no mistake in the matter. In her turn she described Alma’s appearance so minutely, so cleverly, that her companion became lost in astonished belief. When the act drop was rung up, he sat staring like one bewitched, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, but gazing wildly at Mrs. Montmorency.
Suddenly he rose to go.
‘Don’t go yet,’ whispered the lady.
‘I must—I can’t stay!’ he replied. ‘I’ll find out from my cousin herself if what you have told me is true.’
‘Apres?’