“It is so, or why should he, who is civil to no one else, be civil to you? You know why I am here?” she said, abruptly, as if to throw him off his guard. But the ruse failed utterly; he turned his smiling face to her, suavely.
“I can guess,” he said, softly.
Her face flushed, then grew hard and defiant.
“Of course you can! Guess? You know! I am here because I was ‘commanded’ by the marquis; I am here because his mightiness pleases to wish that I should——”
He glanced over his shoulder warningly.
“Is it wise to speak so loudly, my lady?”
She made a gesture of impatient self-scorn.
“What does it matter? Why should I care who knows it? I am here that I may learn to regard myself as the future wife of the future marquis! And you know it.”
He looked at her quietly, with a frank, benevolent regard—-just the look one bestows on an irritable child.
“And is that so distasteful?” he asked. Her face crimsoned, and her eyes drooped, and his smile grew broader. “Not distasteful, I should say,” he murmured; “quite the reverse. Lady Grace, let me return you a compliment. You praised me for my power of acting; yours is a great deal higher! You wanted me to believe that the marquis’ idea was repugnant, whereas——” he chuckled, smoothly.