Clairin's narrative in the miserable facts. "Don't you?"
"A little. But I'm not acting sentimentally; I'm acting politically. I wish to arrange things,—to see my brother free to do at he chooses,—to see Euphemia contented. Do you understand me?"
"Very well, I think. You're the most immoral person I've lately had the privilege of conversing with."
Madame Clairin shrugged her shoulders. "Possibly. When was there a great politician who was not immoral?"
"Nay," said Longmore in the same tone. "You're too superficial to be a great politician. You don't begin to know anything about Madame de Mauves."
Madame Clairin inclined her head to one side, eyed Longmore sharply, mused a moment, and then smiled with an excellent imitation of intelligent compassion. "It's not in my interest to contradict you."
"It would be in your interest to learn, Madame Clairin," the young man went on with unceremonious candor, "what honest men most admire in a woman,—and to recognize it when you see it."
Longmore certainly did injustice to her talents for diplomacy, for she covered her natural annoyance at this sally with a pretty piece of irony. "So you are in love!" she quietly exclaimed.
