"Your beautiful queen wishes to know, Earle, what you think of my lady?"
"My lady!" he repeated wonderingly.
"Yes! try and not be dull of understanding—nothing tries me so severely as that. My lady! I mean, of course, the Countess of Linleigh. What do you think of her, Earle?"
"I think she is very kind, very beautiful, very stately, and very charming."
"I agree with you; but do you not think that she is rather sentimental?"
"I hardly know. Why, Doris?"
"She has a fashion of dropping into my dressing-room at all hours, of taking this long hair of mine into her hands, and looking as though she would fain kiss it, of kissing my face, and talking about you."
"That seems very natural, Doris, and very kind," he said.
"When she talks about you, Earle, the tears come into her eyes, and she is so eloquent about love. Do you know what I fancy sometimes?"
"No," he replied, "I do not."