The duchess rose at that, and her gaze joined that of the hound. She and every one else had the same question in mind: "How will she look?" But there was a very trying delay before it was answered.
Nina came running in an instant later; but, to the dismay of the curious, she was thickly and closely veiled.
From this, of course, they drew their own conclusions, just as she wished them to. Every last one of them believed that her face was not fit to be seen.
Every man, without exception, was sorry—deeply sorry; and every woman, without exception, wasn't. Nina's beauty had always been a hard thing to combat.
For the duchess's kiss she lifted her veil the least bit and presented the extreme point of her chin. The duchess, observing closely, noted that it was unmarred, and concluded that it was the only portion of her great-niece's face that was.
"I have been perfectly brutal to all of you," Nina admitted gaily, "but when you hear my story I'm sure you'll all forgive me."
It is hard for most women to forgive a pretty woman, but to forgive a pretty woman who has suddenly become ugly is not so difficult.
They—the women, that is—were disposed to overlook the poor creature's rudeness. The men were always her slaves, so they didn't count. It was the women she had appealed to, anyhow.
"Nina never is brutal," declared the duke. "I say, Doody, haven't I always said—"
But no one was listening, not even the duchess, who rarely failed to confirm him.