A deadly little man!
When they returned to the salon, as it was called, Miss Daphne Wing in a
black kimono, whence her face and arms emerged more like alabaster than
ever, was sitting on a divan beside Fiorsen. She rose at once and came
across to Gyp.
"Oh, Mrs. Fiorsen"--why did everything she said begin with "Oh"--"isn't
this room lovely? It's perfect for dancing. I only brought cream, and
flame-colour; they go so beautifully with black."
She threw back her kimono for Gyp to inspect her dress--a girdled
cream-coloured shift, which made her ivory arms and neck seem more than
ever dazzling; and her mouth opened, as if for a sugar-plum of praise.
Then, lowering her voice, she murmured:
"Do you know, I'm rather afraid of Count Rosek."
"Why?"
"Oh, I don't know; he's so critical, and smooth, and he comes up so
quietly. I do think your husband plays wonderfully. Oh, Mrs. Fiorsen,
you are beautiful, aren't you?" Gyp laughed. "What would you like me to
dance first? A waltz of Chopin's?"
"Yes; I love Chopin."
"Then I shall. I shall dance exactly what you like, because I do admire
you, and I'm sure you're awfully sweet. Oh, yes; you are; I can see
that! And I think your husband's awfully in love with you. I should be,
if I were a man. You know, I've been studying five years, and I haven't
come out yet. But now Count Rosek's going to back me, I expect it'll be
very soon.
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