As she sat alone that night, lazily smoking by the fireside, the thought of Philip West was greatly in her mind. His strange, dark blue eyes had looked at her searchingly and she had felt that behind them was power. Had she any chance of knowing more of him?
She was tiring already of the luxurious sameness of her life. Maddison was kind, thoughtful, attentive, and a sufficiently entertaining comrade, but she desired more than that. To rule one man did not satisfy her.
The odds seemed against her meeting West again, especially as he was married. Maddison would doubtless tell her what the wife was like, and it was rather upon her than upon West himself that the success of Marian’s vague ambition depended. To win West in any circumstances would doubtless be difficult; to win him from his wife would be a triumph.
Maddison came in late and threw himself full length upon the hearth-rug, a favorite position of his when tired.
“Had a stupid evening?” she asked, sitting down beside him, and brushing the straggling hair from his forehead.
“Fearful. I hate those big hotels at any time, but it was more than usually deadly to-night.”
“Oh, he’d have been all right alone; but his wife is an empty chatterbox, insipidly pretty, and he adores her in a fatuous way. How men of sense can—well, I suppose reason doesn’t count in such matters.”
“Not for worlds. I should turn out a chocolate box cover. I must have a soul as well as a body. They were just a couple of honeymooners. Disgusting.”
“It’s always disgusting to see other people in love.”
“Perhaps that has something to do with it. He’s simply lost his reason for a while; he’ll grow sane again some day, soon probably, and then, likely enough, she’ll cry her eyes out for a day or two, and then will be quite happy for the rest of her unnatural life with her jewels and dresses. She’s just a material little doll.”
“Only another woman, a tall, sedate person; I didn’t quite understand her.”
“She was too much of a puzzle. Either intensely dull, or dangerously clever. At any rate, if I were Mrs. West I would not often have Miss Lane by my side. I rather fancy she’s a woman a man might love absolutely. And when West gets sick of his wife—Lord, what silly gossip I’m talking. Do be a dear and make me a cup of chocolate; you know how, and then we’ll talk about something more interesting than the Wests.”