“On a fortnight’s acquaintance,” said Mrs. Delamere.
“Well, he’s the only man I have met who can tell you them without making you feel bound to blush. Blushing is a nuisance. In fact everything in the world is a nuisance. I wish I were out of it.”
“You would scarcely find your way to a better one,” remarked the elder lady suavely.
“Who knows?” said Minna. “This is pretty bad. Here all the virtuous are deadly dull and despise me. All those who seek me out and amuse me are vicious and vulgar. I hate the sight of Boissy.”
“Don’t you think you had better spend a quiet day here, for a change—send a telegram to Boissy?”
“Oh, lord! I should go crazy if I sat here doing nothing all day. It is punishment for my sins, I suppose.”
“Do as you like, my dear,” said Mrs. Delamere. “Only, if you go, keep your wits about you.”
“I can command the services of better looking animals than Boissy, if I want to compromise myself,” retorted Minna. “He looks as if he came out of the Bon Marché. But he’ll give me the best déjeuner in Monte Carlo.”
“It is getting late, Mademoiselle,” said Justine, appearing on the loggia with an anxious face. Minna rose sighing, and followed the maid indoors. A short while afterwards, Mrs. Delamere saw her charge, attired in a daffodil-yellow dress and a showy straw hat, a wilderness of bows and flowers, drive off buttoning her long gloves.
“She is overdoing it,” she murmured to herself, as she kissed the tips of her fingers to Minna. “She will be wearing her diamonds in the daytime next. I’m glad I’m not a disappointed Jewess.”