“Yes, from Angèle. I couldn't bear it if you were to have trouble here.”
“There's no danger of that.”
“One can't tell. Circumstances which you don't foresee might seem to involve you in some plot. Oh, if you love me, wait till the royalties have gone.”
How could I refuse those soft eyes, and those little clasped hands?
I caught the hands and crushed them against my lips, the rosy fingers that smelled of orris, and the polished nails like pink jewels. As I bent over my love, the curtain which covered the doorway waved as in a gust of wind.
Quick as light, Monica snatched away her hands, but it was too late. Carmona was holding back the portière for Lady Vale-Avon.
He must have been watching. He must have known that I had brought Lady Monica to this room. He must have fetched the girl's mother on purpose to find us together.
These were the thoughts in my mind as I faced the two, mask in hand.
They had seen me kissing Monica's fingers. It was useless to hope that they had not.
“Leave the room instantly, my daughter,” said Lady Vale-Avon, in a low voice. She too had taken off her mask.