"Luce!" he echoed. "Impossible!"
"Oh, but she is!" she murmured, in despair. "She arrived a quarter of an hour ago."
"But I wrote, telling her," he muttered helplessly.
The countess made a despairing gesture.
"Then she did not get your letter. She sent a telegram this morning, saying that she was able, unexpectedly, to come, but I have not had it. And if I had received it, there would not have been time to prevent her coming." She glanced at the slim, girlish figure of Nell, where it stood, the center of a group, and almost groaned. "What shall we do?"
At such times a man is indeed helpless, and Drake stood overwhelmed and idealess.
"She says that we are not to wait—that she will come down when she is dressed. She—she——Oh, Drake! she does not know, and she will think that—that you still—that she——"
He nodded.
"I know. But I am thinking of Nell," he said grimly. "Luce must be told. She—yes, she must go away again. She will, when she knows the truth."
"But—but who is to tell her?" said the poor countess, aghast at the prospect before her.