"Everybody knows what you think of Mrs. Darling," affirmed the duchess calmly. "But I do wonder what she looks like!"
Charlotte Grey had been to Bath, but had not succeeded in seeing the recluse. She got as far as Delphine, and that was all.
"Madame ne reçoit personne," said the French maid.
"Nibbetts has been, too," said Kitty Bellingdown. "And he was equally unsuccessful."
"I thought she'd have seen you," ventured the duchess.
"I thought so, too; but it appears not," returned Kneedrock gloomily.
Meanwhile the Carleigh split-up had occurred, but the fact had not yet reached this bureau of family and friendly counsel.
Strolling ruminantly on the promenade at Nice, Caryll's heart turned thirstily toward the giver of oblivion.
"I don't care what she looks like, I must see her," he said, and he left by that night's Paris rapide.
On the journey to Bath he did a great deal of thinking. He hadn't been happy for weeks—not since the night Mrs. Veynol came so suddenly into his paradise in Madeira.