"I smell the brimstone," said Honora.
He derived, apparently, infinite amusement from this remark likewise.
"If I had known I was to have the honour of sitting here, I should have used another perfume," he replied. "I have several."
It was Honora's turn to laugh.
"They are probably for—commercial transactions, not for ladies," she retorted. "We are notoriously fond of brimstone, if it is not too strong. A suspicion of it."
Her colour was high, and she was surprised at her own vivacity. It seemed strange that she should be holding her own in this manner with the renowned Trixton Brent. No wonder, after four years of Rivington, that she tingled with an unwonted excitement.
At this point Mr. Brent's eye fell upon Howard, who was explaining something to Mrs. Trowbridge at the far end of the table.
"What's your husband like?" he demanded abruptly.
Honora was a little taken aback, but recovered sufficiently to retort:
"You'd hardly expect me to give you an unprejudiced judgment."
"That's true," he agreed significantly.