“How can you say such a thing!” Torrigiani laughed wryly. “The fellow is probably in love with you like all the rest of us.”
She shook a finger at him.
“You’re an insinuating wretch! I only wish you were right. I’d adore to have a genius like that in love with me, even if he is a nut. But he’s so crazy about Anne that he can’t see straight. I’m sure I don’t know what’s going to happen!”
Vittorio’s heart skipped a beat. “Is this interesting affection mutual?”
“Oh, I hope not. He would make a terrible husband. So egotistical, you know.”
Husband! The Marchese’s knuckles showed white about his wine-glass.
“And he is much younger than she!” Ellen’s eyes rested upon him blandly. “At least ten years. But you never can tell what a woman will do when she is infatuated!”
He gathered himself together.
“Aren’t you exaggerating a little? Mrs. Schuyler has hardly reached the foolish age as yet. I’m positive she wouldn’t dream of marrying a man younger than herself!”
“Such things have happened!” Ellen’s shrug was eloquent. “Shall we take our coffee in the other room? I believe I hear voices.”