"No, indeed; why should I?" she rejoined with affected indignation.
"It is unpardonable," he murmured.
"Why unpardonable?"
"Had you been a Protestant in the past, it would at least have been comprehensible," he said, "because any kind of absurdity is possible after one has been a Protestant. What after all are all these ridiculous, new-fangled creeds but further schisms of Protestantism? But seeing that you were once a Catholic, I repeat, it is unpardonable."
Mrs. Delarayne purred resentfully, as if to imply that it would require something more than that line of persuasion to convince her of her error.
"What do you do to induce me to abandon anything—however erroneous?" she protested at last. "It isn't as if you were even remaining in the country. You are going away. But I cannot bear to think of your going away."
Lord Henry folded his hands and scrutinised her for a moment beneath lowered brows. Her manner was unmistakable; she revealed as much of her game as her dignity allowed. His heart softened towards her.
"Is it so much to you that I am going?" he demanded.
"Oh, no," she replied, mock cheerfully, "le roi est mort, vive le roi!"
"Haven't you a number of friends?"