She laughed at him. Hers was never a pleasant laugh, but this time it
was at least natural.

"How discriminating," she declared. "I am an ugly woman, and men of
taste usually prefer ugly women. Then I am always well dressed. I know
how to wear my clothes. And I have a shocking reputation. A really
wicked woman, I once heard pious old Lady Surbiton call me! Dear old
thing! It did me no end of good. Then I have the very great advantage
of never caring for any one more than a few days together. Men find that
annoying."

"You have violent fancies," he remarked, "and strange ones."

"Perhaps," she admitted. "They concern no one except myself."

"This Souspennier craze, for instance!"

She nodded.

"Well, you can't say that I'm not honest. It is positively my only
virtue. I adore the truth. I loathe a lie. That is one reason, I
daresay, why I can only barely tolerate you. You are a shocking--a gross
liar."

"Muriel!"

"Oh, don't look at me like that," she exclaimed irritably. "You must
hear the truth sometimes. And now, please remember that I came to lunch
with you to hear about your visit this morning."

The Prince gnawed his moustache, and the light in his eyes was not
a pleasant thing to see. This woman with her reckless life, her odd
fascination, her brusque hatred of affectations, was a constant torment
to him. If only he could once get her thoroughly into his power.

"My visit," he said, "was wholly successful. It could not well be
otherwise. Lucille has returned to Dorset House. Souspennier is
confounded altogether by a little revelation which I ventured to make.
He spoke of an appeal. I let him know with whom he would have to deal.
I left him nerveless and crushed. He can do nothing save by open revolt.
And if he tries that--well, there will be no more of this wonderful Mr.
Sabin."

"Altogether a triumph to you," she remarked scornfully. "Oh, I know the
sort of thing. But, after all, my dear Ferdinand, what of last night.
I hate the woman, but she played the game, and played it well. We were
fooled, both of us. And to think that I--"

She broke off with a short laugh. The Prince looked at her curiously.

"Perhaps," he said, "you had some idea of consoling the desolate
husband?"

"Perhaps I had," she answered coolly. "It didn't come off, did it? Order
me some coffee, and give me a cigarette, my friend. I have something
else to say to you."

He obeyed her, and she leaned back in the high chair.