"Philip!" exclaimed Mrs. Barclay in the greatest surprise. "I never heard you say anything like that before."
"I suppose it makes a difference," he said thoughtfully, "with what eyes a man looks at a thing. And dancing—I don't think I care to see her dance."
"Philip! You are extravagant."
"I believe I should be fit to commit murder if I saw her waltzing with anybody."
"Jealous already?" said Mrs. Barclay slyly.
"If you like.—Do you see her as I see her?" he asked abruptly.
There was a tone in the last words which gave Mrs. Barclay's heart a kind of constriction. She answered with gentle sympathy, "I think I do."
"I have seen handsomer women," he went on;—"Madge is handsomer, in a way; you may see many women more beautiful, according to the rules; but I never saw any one so lovely!"
"I quite agree with you," said Mrs. Barclay.
"I never saw anything so lovely!" he repeated. "She is most like—"