And here Lumley, with a low bow, slid coolly into the place which Cesarini, who had shyly risen, left vacant for him. Castruccio looked disconcerted; but Florence had forgotten him in her delight at seeing Lumley, and Cesarini moved discontentedly away, and seated himself at a distance.
“And I come back,” continued Lumley, “to find you a confirmed beauty and a professional coquette—don’t blush!”
“Do they, indeed, call me a coquette?”
“Oh, yes,—for once the world is just.”
“Perhaps I do deserve the reproach. Oh, Lumley, how I despise all that I see and hear!”
“What, even the Duke of ———?”
“Yes, I fear even the Duke of ——— is no exception!”
“Your father will go mad if he hear you.”
“My father!—my poor father!—yes, he thinks the utmost that I, Florence Lascelles, am made for, is to wear a ducal coronet, and give the best balls in London.”
“And pray what was Florence Lascelles made for?”