Alpha Book

It was late. The old prince had gone to his own quarters, the boys
were in bed, and Orsino was presumably at a party or at the club. Sant'
Ilario was enjoying the delight of spending an hour alone in his wife's
society. They were in Corona's old boudoir, a place full of associations
for them both. He did not want to be mentally disturbed. He said nothing
in answer to his wife's remark. She repeated it in a different form.
"Women like her do not disappear when one does not want them," she said.
"What makes you think so?" inquired Giovanni with a man's irritating
indolence when he does not mean to grasp a disagreeable idea.
"I know it," Corona answered, resting her chin upon her hand and staring
at the fire.
Giovanni surrendered unconditionally.
"You are probably right, dear. You always are about people."
"Well--then you must see the importance of what I say," said Corona
pushing her victory.
"Of course, of course," answered Giovanni, squinting at the flames with
one eye between his outstretched fingers.


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