"I say, darling, I hope you're not in earnest," Tony remarked. "You
seem to be in a dangerous mood to-night, and you look adorably
lovely--yes, simply scrumptious! You would fascinate any man, my dear,
and I am sure even Don Carlos will be clay in your hands. Don't be too
hard on him, Myra. He's an awfully good chap, and I feel sure he
didn't mean any harm."
"To-night, my dear Tony, I am a 'vamp,'" laughed Myra. "Just look at
Aunt Clarissa over there flirting with Don Carlos, who is probably
telling her she is the most accomplished and beautiful woman in the
world. Watch me go and cut her out!"
Conscious that she was looking her best (a feeling that gives any woman
a sense of power), Myra strolled across the hall to where Don Carlos
was chatting to Lady Fermanagh.
"Forgive me if I am interrupting," she said sweetly, smiling into the
dark eyes of the Spaniard. "I want to tell you I am so glad to hear
from Tony that you are coming with us on the yachting cruise this
winter, and I want to thank you for your invitation to El Castillo de
Ruiz. I was so afraid you had not forgiven me for being so rude to
you, and dreaded lest you had decided to have nothing further to do
with such an ungracious person as Myra Rostrevor."
"Sweet lady, I should dismiss such a thought as treason, not to say
blasphemy," Don Carlos responded gallantly. "Even when you are
ungracious, if ever, you are always the most adorable and beautiful
woman in the world."
Myra trilled out a laugh, her blue eyes still smiling at him.
"Thank you, señor, for these few kind words," she said. "I expect you
have been saying something of the same sort to my aunt?"
"Yes, Myra, Don Carlos has been telling me that mine is the type of
beauty he has always most admired, and that I seem to have discovered
not only the secret of perpetual youth, but the art of growing old
gracefully," Lady Fermanagh told her smilingly. "I begin to suspect
him of being Irish instead of Spanish--for how can one grow old with
perpetual youth, I ask you? Still, I confess I like his blarney, and I
think it a pity that most Englishmen seem to have lost the knack of
paying a compliment, and saying flattering things as if they meant
them."
"Dear lady, you do both me and yourself an injustice," exclaimed Don
Carlos, his tone very grave but his dark eyes dancing. "The greatest
of courtiers, even if he had kissed your famous Blarney Stone, would
surely be at a loss for words which would even do justice to your
charm, let alone flattering you."