“Magnifique!” ejaculated the Countess de Coude, beneath her breath.
“Eh?” questioned the count, turning toward his young wife.“What is it that is magnificent?” and the count bent his eyes invarious directions in quest of the object of her admiration.
“Oh, nothing at all, my dear,” replied the countess, a slight flushmomentarily coloring her already pink cheek. “I was but recalling withadmiration those stupendous skyscrapers, as they call them, of New York,”and the fair countess settled herself more comfortably in her steamer chair,and resumed the magazine which “nothing at all” had caused her tolet fall upon her lap.
Her husband again buried himself in his book, but not without a mild wondermentthat three days out from New York his countess should suddenly have realized anadmiration for the very buildings she had but recently characterized as