"Wonderful," Forbes panted. "But it is in a crowd, and you are married."
"That does not mean that I am never to see you alone, does it?" she asked, anxiously and challengingly.
Forbes was still wise enough and well enough aware of his own passion to say, "But discovery and scandal would be the only result."
"Not if we were very discreet," Persis pleaded, thinking of those lonely months.
"But your husband?"
Persis uttered that ugly old truth, "If we can evade gossip abroad, we shall be safe enough at home."
And as if in object-lesson, Willie Enslee joggled up that very moment. He showed the influence of mild tippling on a limited capacity, and, coming forward, shook hands foolishly and forcibly with Captain Forbes. "How d'ye do—Mr. Ward," he drawled.
"Captain Forbes, dear," Persis corrected.
"That's right. I always was an ass about names, Mr. Ward. I haven't seen you for years and years, have we? Have you met my wife? Oh, of course you have."
Forbes was revolted. There was something loathsome about the little farce. Enslee reminded him of the clown in "I Pagliacci," and Persis, like another Nedda, was determined to finish the scene. Tucking her fan under her thigh, she said with innocent voice, "Oh, Willie, I've lost my fan somewhere; would you mind looking for it?"