“Now tell me about your pictures,” Vilma suggested.
Almost despite himself, the Marquis started to tell her about the many pictures that he had bought to augment the fine collection that he had inherited.
They had finished dinner before he realised that he had talked almost incessantly about himself.
Vilma had managed to make him do so as cleverly as Lisette, the previous evening, had made him talk about love.
“It is now your turn,” he said as the coffee came to the table, “to tell me what you do when you are home.”
“You know the answer to that,” Vilma said. “I ride and, of course, until this year, I have been studying.”
“I think very successfully,” the Marquis remarked. “And apart from helping your father with electricity, what do you intend to do in the future?”
Vilma thought how
