"You are Lady Ruth's friend," he remarked. "Probably, therefore, she
will tell you all about it."
The Marchioness laughed softly, yet with something less than mirth.
"Friends," she exclaimed, "Lady Ruth and I? There was never a woman in
this world who was less my friend--especially now!"
He asked for no explanation of her last words, but in a moment or two
she vouchsafed it. She leaned a little forward, her eyes flashed
softly through the semi-darkness.
"Lady Ruth is afraid," she said quietly, "that I might take you away
from her."
"My dear lady," he protested, "the slight friendship between Lady Ruth
and myself is not of the nature to engender such a fear."
She shrugged her beautiful shoulders. Her hands were toying with the
rope of pearls which hung from her neck. She bent over them, as though
examining the color of the stones.
"How long have you known Ruth?" she asked quietly.
He looked at her steadfastly. He could not be sure whether it was his
fancy, or whether indeed there was some hidden meaning in her
question.
"Since I came to live in England," he answered.
"Ah!"
There was a moment's silence. Then with a little wave of her hands and
a brilliant smile, she figuratively dismissed the subject.
"We waste time," she remarked lightly, "and we may have callers at any
moment. I will ask you no more questions save those which the
conventions may permit you to answer truthfully.
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