She sprang to her feet, and stood with her hand pressed against the chair, her bosom heaving, her magnificent eyes fixed upon him with suppressed fury.
“A word, a hint, just a whisper, is enough nowadays for the scandal-loving world; and I can just fancy how delighted the society papers would be with such a dainty morsel as the incident of a visit to Lord C——l N——l from Lady G——e P——n. They never print the name in full; oh, no; but everybody understands——”
“Take care!” she breathed. “Do not drive me too far!”
“Oh, yes, yes; we must take care!” he assented, feigning to misunderstand her. “We must not breathe a word of it, of course; must flatly contradict it, if we hear a hint dropped. But there, dear Cecil would rather die than admit it!”
“Yes,” she said, between her teeth; “yes, you speak the truth there; he would rather die than harm should come to me—to any one—for his sake!”
“Y-e-s, he is so high-minded, isn’t he? And how does the dear fellow bear this blow? It isn’t pleasant to be jilted, is it? Is he resigned? I am curious now to hear how he takes it!”
“Go to him and ask him!” she said, with fine scorn. “Take care, Spenser Churchill! Up to the present your schemes have succeeded. You know best how far they will carry you. To me it seems that you—and I are walking on a volcano. What if he should find this—this girl?”
“Miss Marlowe, do you mean?” he said. “My dear lady, you forget; she is in Australia!” he said.
“Is she in London?” she asked, in a lower voice, and looking away from him. “If so, and he finds her——” She stopped, significantly.
He smiled blandly.