“Mamma! It’s my lead.” There was more than a suggestion of anger in Corinne’s voice.
Bowing, Dr. Wells handed his partner her card, saying politely:
“Your card.”
“Corinne, you watch me like a hawk; as if you thought your own mother would cheat you if you weren’t looking.”
“Ah! but I always am looking,” that young lady cried gayly.
There was a lull at the table after this family tilt, and the Judge seized the occasion to share the “exclusive,” which had proved too thrilling to be kept to himself.
“Ah—give me your attention a moment. I have just read in my Digest, here, such a peculiar tale. A reigning prince of some little European state has run off.”
“Dear, dear,” Mrs. Lee said. “Was it a love-affair?”
“Ah—not precisely: though a princess had been arranged for him.”
Even Miss Crewe felt a degree of interest in a run-away prince, or perhaps she felt that she had challenged her aunt’s wrath long enough. She rose, as her cousin called to her: