Nature had made of her so rare a painting—her's was a beauty so spirituelle—that it awed to something like reverence, those who greeted her. The flush of indignation had disappeared from her face, but the excitement, the agitation through which she had passed had heightened her color as well as her beauty.
The first thing that Marrion said, aside to Robert, was:
"How is that head?"
"That's one on me, gentlemen. Have cigars, it's my treat."
"With your gracious permission," remarked Marrion, bowing to the hostess.
"I am pleased to grant it, if you enjoy smoking," and she handed them matches.
"It is some time since we have met, Mrs. Milburn," said Frost, with cold courtesy, while the other men were talking together.
"Yes, it is quite a long time. Your wife is well, I trust."
"I am sorry, but I really can't enlighten you on that point."
"Is she out of the city?"
"I am told so. The fact is, she has recently taken a decided liking to a young actor. I understand that she is going upon the stage."
