Then he checked himself abruptly, feeling no doubt how useless it was to discuss such matters seriously just now.
"The only woman," he added, falling in once more with his friend's lighter mood, "the only woman whose blandishments His Grace of Wessex has ever been known to resist."
"And that with difficulty," concluded the Duke gaily. "But you see, friend," he added with mock gravity, "with a Tudor you never can tell; you might lose your heart one day and your head the next."
"Mary Tudor loves you too well . . ." protested Lord Everingham.
"She is the daughter of King Harry VIII, remember, and would threaten me with the block or the rack at every indiscretion."
He paused, then added quaintly—
"And I would commit so many."
"A woman who loves always forgives," urged his friend.
"A woman, my good Everingham, will forgive a grave infidelity—perhaps! but not a number of little indiscretions. Mine," he added with a light sigh, "would be the little indiscretions."
"And while you fled from Court the Queen of England has almost promised to wed the Spanish king," said Everingham bitterly.