“Well, as I was about to observe,” said the chevalier, carelessly. “Theresa thinks only of you. You are the father of the child, which is soon to see the light, and I am in some doubt as to what course I ought to advise you to take. I should not like to be instrumental in bringing an encumbrance on you—still, at the same time, I cannot conceal from myself that to leave her to take her chance in those cursed mountains all alone, and without any other companion than her maid, who, to say the truth, is a giddy, flirting little puss, is not altogether desirable.”
“I am delighted to hear you say so,” cried the earl, “and for this reason, that it coincides with my own view of the question. I am now determined I will have her over here—take a villa for her in one of the London suburbs.”
“Or apartments for her in the metropolis.”
“Yes, or apartments. Perhaps that would be better.”
“Much better. Villas are all very well in their way, but she would be much more cheerful and contented with apartments.”
“I think you are right; but that is a question which we can determine upon her arrival. I will write at once and tell her to come over to this country without any delay. What say you?”
The chevalier answered with a shrug.
“I think I am in duty bound to do this—eh?”
“Well, perhaps you are. One thing has been made manifest to me plainly enough.”
“What is that?”