"Yes," she said, "that's quite right. It is very clever of you."
"I do not like your London," pursued the stranger. "It suffocates me, and I wish to run away into the country."
"And how did you know of this charming spot?" said her Ladyship, still angling on general principles.
"Oh, I have heard it mentioned."
"By Mr. Stanley, perhaps?" suggested the Dowager. "You knew he was to be here."
"Oh, yes," rejoined Madame Darcy, judging it better to be frank. "But I came here to be quite alone. I need rest and quiet."
"I see," said the Marchioness, who was quite bewildered. "But you and Mr. Stanley are very old friends, are you not?"
"Our fathers were. We have not met often recently."
"Yes, yes, of course," said the Marchioness. "Mr. Stanley told me. He's such a nice young fellow. We often see him at our house. I take quite an interest in him. And how pleasantly he is situated, too. Diplomacy is such a delightful profession. But then"—and here she sighed gently—"like other delightful things in this world it must require a very long purse."
If Madame Darcy had had any knowledge of English manners and customs, the Dowager's method of attack would have put her on her guard at once. But being totally unversed in the ways of British matrimonial diplomacy, she took the Marchioness' remarks to mean nothing more than an expression of kindly interest in the young man's welfare, and did not hesitate to inform her that the Secretary was amply able to afford any position he chose to take.