He seated himself; the maid retired.
For a while he sat there, absently playing with his gilt-hilted sword, sombre-eyed, preoccupied, listening to the distant joyous tumult in the house, until quick, light steps and a breezy flurry of satin at the door announced his wife's return.
"Oh," she said coolly; "you ?" That was her greeting; his was a briefer nod.
She went to her mirror and studied her face, trying a patch here, a hint of vermilion there, touching up brow and lashes and the sweet, curling corners of her mouth.
"Well ?" she inquired, over her shoulder, insolently.
He got up out of the chair, shut the door, and returned to his seat again.
"Have you made up your mind about the _D_ and _P_ securities ?" he asked.
"I told you I'd let you know when I came to any conclusion," she replied drily.
"Yes, I know what you said, Rosalie.

But the time is shortening.

I've got to meet certain awkward obligations----" "So you intimated before." He nodded and went on amiably: "All I ask of you is to deposit those securities with us for a few months.

They are as safe with us as they are with the Half-Moon.

Do you think I'd let you do it if I were not certain ?" She turned and scrutinised him insultingly: "I don't know," she said, "how many kinds of treachery you are capable of." "What do you mean ?" "What I say.