He kissed her fingers and passed out with a murmured word. He knew so little of women and yet some wonderful instinct kept him always in the right path. Perhaps, too, he feared speech himself, lest the ecstasy of those few moments might be broken.
CHAPTER XVII
This is how a weekly paper of indifferent reputation but immense circulation brought Tallente's love affair to a crisis. In a column purporting to set out the editor's curiosity upon certain subjects, the following paragraphs appeared:
Whether a distinguished member of the Democratic Party is not considered just now the luckiest man in the world of politics and love.
Whether the young lady really enjoys playing the prodigal daughter at home and in the country, and what her noble relatives have to say about it.
Whether there are not some sinister rumours going about concerning the politician in question.
Jane's mother, who had arrived in London only the day before, was in Charles Street before her prodigal daughter had finished breakfast. She brandished a copy of the paper in her hand. Jane read the three paragraphs and let the paper slip from her fingers as though she had been handling an unclean thing. She rang the bell and pointed to where it lay upon the floor.
"Take that into the servants' hall and let it be destroyed, Parkins," she ordered.
The Duchess held her peace until the man had left the room. Then she turned resolutely to Jane.
"My dear," she said, "that's posing. Besides, it's indiscreet. Parkins will read it, of course, and it's what that sort of person reads, nowadays, that counts. We can't afford it. The aristocracy has had its fling. To-day we are on our good behaviour."