She says he's the most lovely feller in Europe."
Leo twisted the bouquet. He was sitting now on the edge of a chair, and
shooting furtive glances in the direction of Lord Holme, who had begun to
look extremely stupid, overwhelmed by the cool impudence of the American.
"Your husband looks as if he were perched around on a keg of
rattlesnakes," continued Miss Schley, her clear voice mingling with the
passionate tenor cry, "/Celeste Aida!/" "Ain't he feeling well to-day?"
"I believe he is perfectly well," said Lady Holme, in a very low voice.
It was odd, perhaps, but she did not feel at all angry, embarrassed, or
even slightly annoyed, by Miss Schley's very deliberate attempt to
distress her. Of course she understood perfectly what had happened and
was happening. Fritz had spoken to the actress about her mimicry of his
wife, had probably spoken blunderingly, angrily. Miss Schley was secretly
furious at his having found out what she had been doing, still more
furious at his having dared to criticise any proceeding of hers. To
revenge herself at one stroke on both Lord and Lady Holme she had turned
to Leo Ulford, whose destiny it evidently was to be used as a weapon
against others. Long ago Lady Holme had distracted Leo's wandering
glances from the American and fixed them on herself. With the instinct to
be common of an utterly common nature Miss Schley had resolved to awake a
double jealousy--of husband and wife--by exhibiting Leo Ulford as her
/ami intime/, perhaps as the latest victim to her fascination.
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