"Mr. Greenwood, I must ask you not to discuss Lady Frances here."
"Oh! Not to discuss her ladyship!"
"Surely you must be aware how angry the Marquis has been about it."
"Oh!" He had not seated himself, nor divested himself of that inquisitorial appearance which was so distasteful to her. "We used to discuss Lady Frances sometimes, Lady Kingsbury."
"I will not discuss her now. Let that be enough, Mr. Greenwood."
"Nor yet Lord Hampstead."
"Nor yet Lord Hampstead. I think it very wrong of you to come after all that took place. If the Marquis knew it—"
Oh! If the Marquis knew it! If the Marquis knew all, and if other people knew all! If it were known how often her ladyship had spoken, and how loud, as to the wished-for removal to a better world of his lordship's eldest son! But he could not dare to speak it out. And yet it was cruel on him! He had for some days felt her ladyship to be under his thumb, and now it seemed that she had escaped from him. "Oh! very well, Lady Kingsbury. Perhaps I had better go,—just for the present." And he went.
This served, at least, for corroboration. She did not dare to keep the secret long from her husband, and therefore, in the course of the evening, went down with her sister's letter in her hand. "What!" said the Marquis, when the story had been read to him. "What! Duca di Crinola."
"There can't be a doubt about it, my dear."