“Yes,” the contessa replied, frankly.
“May I ask which? You see, my curiosity is getting the upper hand.”
Amélie threw back her head with a hearty laugh. “I was certainly wrong in my first diagnosis,” she said. “A man who was merely a thinking-machine would possess no curiosity. Usually a learned man is entirely safe.”
“Then you really consider me dangerous?” There was a tone in Armstrong’s voice which caused the contessa to look up at him quickly.
“Most men would consider that a compliment, Mr. Armstrong.”
Receiving no reply, Amélie continued:
“Your wife has such original ideas! I have found my acquaintance with her positively refreshing.”
“How does this bear upon our present conversation?” Armstrong inquired, still weighed down by the contessa’s estimate of him. Amélie’s frankness showed that no doubt existed in her mind as to his attitude toward Miss Thayer, and he felt that denials would be worse than useless. If impressions such as these lay in the mind of a casual observer like the contessa it was but natural that they should assume greater proportions to Helen; and it was with a foreboding that he heard her name mentioned in the present conversation. Amélie, however, could not sense the effect of her words upon her companion.
“Because we once discussed the same subject,” she replied to his question, “and her attitude was most unusual. She even said that were she convinced that her husband really loved some other woman she would step aside and give him a clear field.”
“Did she say that?” Armstrong demanded.