"
"I've got someone wonderfully beautiful beside me," I answered.
"But have you no interest in the American?" she asked.
"None--except that she interests you. In the third box, did you say?"
I asked, turning slowly toward it.
"Why, Armand, you know her!" said Dehra, suddenly.
Trust a woman to read a man's face.
"Yes," said I, "I have seen her before to-night."
She gave me a sharp look. "And have known her, too--_n'est ce pas_?"
"Yes--after a fashion," I answered.
She studied the woman for a space.
"Is that her husband behind her?" she asked, presently.
I smiled. "Very possibly," I said.
"Had she a husband when you knew her?" she persisted.
"Part of the time." I was a bit uncomfortable.
"And the man, yonder, is not he?"
"No," said I.
She gave me a sidelong glance. "And her name?" she asked.
"It used to be Madeline Spencer."
"You showed excellent taste, Armand--both in her looks and name."
There was something of sarcasm in the tone.
"Don't be unjust, sweetheart," I said. "She never was anything to me."
"Are you quite sure?".
"On my honor."
She gave a little sigh of relief. "I am glad, dear; I would not want
her for a rival.
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