"Oh, yes, it does—to me. I have been watching you, Miss Valliant, wondering"
"Wondering what?"
"Wondering what lies underneath the butterfly existence you seem to lead."
"Ah! you think I am a butterfly."
"I think that you know how to papillonner la vie—as one says, but that is a different thing from being a butterfly."
"I don't understand much French, but I understand enough to know what that means."
"It's a great art—to papillonner la vie."
"Do you practice it?" she asked.
"I try to. But I have moods in which life seems deadly serious."
"Were you in one of those moods that night?"
"Ah! No, I was in a reckless mood that night. I have quite got over it now."
"And you are in the butterfly phase," she said, a little bitterly.
"Why do you say that in such a contemptuous way?"
"I was thinking of something Mr. Trant told me about you."
"What was that?"
"I don't think I ought to tell you."
"I can guess what it was. Trant reproaches me with liking ladies' society too much. I am sure he told you that I was a flirt."
"Yes, he said something of that kind, only he put it more strongly."
"How? You needn't mind telling me what Trant said about me. I am sure that he has often said the same things to my face."
"So he told me."
"He warned you against me, didn't he?"
"Yes"
"And he described me as a conceited cad who tried to be a lady-killer?"
