The Duke looked at his watch and sighed. She came up to him and stretched out her hand.
“And so are you—very delightful,” she said.
The Duke bent low and lightly kissed her hand.
“How am I to think of you?” she asked.
“We’ll each think of the other as of an evening’s holiday,” he said. “Some streak of variety across life—a dream, if you will—a sample of what we seek and see and lose. Or do I put my claim too high?”
“No,” she said softly. “But I must go back to my home.”
“And to your Chief Constable?”
She drew away from him, saying, a trifle defiantly: “I love him.”
“Yes; but you’ve enjoyed your evening?” asked the Duke.
“Oh, it’s been fun!” she cried, with a sudden gurgling laugh.