“I heard that he’d been obliged to leave England,” remarked another lady in a subdued voice. “Up to his ears in debt, poor fellow!”
“Well, he has had a very long rope,” said the duchess. “It is time he married and settled down.”
“That is just what he is going to do,” said Lady Despard, laughing. “I heard from Mr. Spenser Churchill—he is stopping at Barton Towers, you know—that Lord Cecil is engaged to Grace Peyton.”
The duchess raised her eyebrows.
“At last! Well, it is a good match, and I’m sure she’ll be happy.”
“Oh, how severe!” said the other lady. “You mean that he won’t be, your grace?”
“I mean that if I were a man I should think twice before——” She stopped, as if she had suddenly remembered the number and mixed character of her audience.
“Oh, she is a charming girl—and so very beautiful, you know,” said Lady Despard.
“Yes, very,” said her grace, dryly, and changed the subject.
Doris sat perfectly motionless, and very pale, fighting against the dizziness which assailed her.