She heard; she opened her eyes in ingenuous wonder. Before she could consider the words, they were on her lips.
“Is that all?”
“Nay, not all,” he answered softly—“not all. But that you might hear and feel.”
Involuntarily she shrank away a little.
“Richard knew,” she said, “that he could always have my guitar for the asking.”
“Is that so?” said his Highness. “But he did not tell me—perchance because he would have his sister learn the estimate in which he is held by others, to show his power to move me in your presence. Ah!” he waved a playful hand—a very white and shapely one: “relations are notoriously grudging critics of their own.”
Still she struggled faintly.
“This is a poor room for resonance, my lord Duke. The audience-chamber would have been better chosen.”
“Nay,” he said; “are we not private here?”
“Private, Sir?”