But even as she talked to Pete she was only dimly aware of his existence.

Her audience was her husband.

She was playing for his praise and admiration, and before soup was over she knew she had it; she knew better than words could tell her that he thought her the most desirable woman in the world.
Fortified by that knowledge, the pacification of a cross boy seemed to Adelaide an inconsiderable task.
By the time they rose from table it was accomplished.

As they went into the drawing-room Adelaide was thinking that young men were really rather geese, but, then, one wouldn't have them different if one could.
Vincent was thinking how completely attaching a nature like hers would always be to him, since when she yielded her will to his she did it with such complete generosity.
Mathilde was saying to herself: "Of course I knew Pete's charm would win Mama at last, but even I did not suppose he could do it the very first evening." And Pete was thinking: "A former beauty thinks she can put anything over, and in a way she can.
I feel rather friendly toward her." The Farrons had decided while they were dressing that after dinner they would retire to Vincent's study and give the lovers a few minutes to themselves.
Left alone, Pete and Mathilde stood looking seriously at each other, and then at the room which only a few weeks before had witnessed their first prolonged talk.
"I never saw your mother look a quarter as beautiful as she does this evening," said Wayne.
"Isn't she marvelous, the way she can make up for everything when she wants ?" Mathilde answered with enthusiasm.
Pete shook his head.
"She can never make up for one thing." "O Pete!" "She can never give me back my first instinctive, egotistical, divine conviction that there was every reason why you should love me.

I shall always hear her voice saying, 'But why should Mathilde love you ?' And I shall never know a good answer." "What," cried Mathilde, "don't you know the answer to that! I do.