and conceited fellow. She dislikes a great many things about me; no doubt with reason."
"Jealous," commented his sister, who could see through other women.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"So some of my friends say. I cannot understand it. But you needn't see much of each other."
"I think I know her sort," said Connie, watching the smoke from her cigarette. "Well, we both seem to have made a mess of things."
This struck Eric as humorous, but not a sign of his amusement appeared in his face.
"Where is Petrovitch now?" he asked her.
She smiled to a passing acquaintance before she answered.
"In America, I believe. Still lionized and applauded. It seems to me, Eric, that men have nine lives to a woman's one. Look at me . . . a worn-out wreck, while he"
"A bad fellow, Connie," said Eric; at which she bit her lip.
"I can't let you say that. I love him."
"Still?"
She nodded.
Eric looked at her as though he would like to see into her mind.
