"And what is that?" he asked.
The fan stopped, and she laughed lightly.
"Simply this: I am not Armand Dalberg's wife."
(Dehra reached over and took my hand. The King looked at us both and
nodded; then clapped me on the knee.)
For a space, Lotzen stared at Mrs. Spencer--and she smiled sweetly back
at him.
"Not his wife!" he ejaculated, presently.
Her smile became a laugh.
"No, monsieur; not his wife."
This time, Lotzen's stare was even longer. Then, suddenly, he laughed.
"I thought, for a moment, you actually meant it," he said.
She put both elbows on the table and leaned forward.
"Come, monsieur, let us be frank with each other," she said. "Not only
am I not Armand Dalberg's wife, but you have always known it."
He frowned. "My dear girl," he said, "I've been sorrowfully accepting
your own word that you are his wife; how should I know that you've
been----" he hesitated.