“It was as good as a comedy,” declared she, laughing heartily. “I told him how lonely I was, and did the emotional dodge—squeezed a tear or two, just to add to the realism—and it brought him to the point at once. You should have been there; you would have been highly amused, for he’s such a believing idiot, that I can do just as I like with him.”
“You’re a clever girl, Valérie. With all your airs and graces, I believe you’d deceive the Evil One himself, if it was to your own interest to do so.”
“I don’t know whether to regard that as a compliment or not,” she remarked merrily, as she drew her opera cloak more closely around her shoulders, and leaned back in the carriage listlessly. “I suppose, however, from our point of view, the amount of deceit and craftiness I display in dealing with him will secure the more or less successful issue of our scheme.”
“If he knew everything, our position would not be a very enviable one, would it?”
“Scarcely. But, you see, my dear Victor, he doesn’t know all, and will not, unless Egerton peaches, which he dare not do on account of his own neck. Therefore, we are quite safe, and can negotiate the little affair without interruption.”
“I believe that you really care for the fellow a little—just a little,” her companion said, with a sarcastic laugh.
“And supposing that I did? I am my own mistress and can act as I please,” returned she, a trifle annoyed.
“Bien! you know best how to manage him, for you’ve had experience. I only urge you to be careful, and avoid any sentimental humbug.”
“Bah! I want none of your advice,” was all she replied, and a long silence ensued, which was not broken until the carriage drew up at the door of the theatre.