“He would have me believe,” she murmured, “that he is faithful to other things besides his enmities.”
Mr. Sabin smiled.
“I am not jealous,” he said softly, “of the Prince of Saxe Leinitzer!”
As though attracted by the mention of his name, which must, however, have been unheard by him, the Prince at that moment turned round and looked for a moment towards them. He shot a quick glance at Lady Carey. Almost at once she rose from her chair and came across to them.
“The Prince’s watch-dog,” Lucille murmured. “Hateful woman! She is bound hand and foot to him, and yet—”
Her eyes met his, and he laughed.
“Really,” he said, “you and I in our old age might be hero and heroine of a little romance—the undesiring objects of a hopeless affection!”
Lady Carey sank into a low chair by their side. “You two,” she said, with a slow, malicious smile, “are a pattern to this wicked world. Don’t you know that such fidelity is positively sinful, and after three years in such a country too?”
“It is the approach of senility,” Mr. Sabin answered her. “I am an old man, Lady Muriel!”
She shrugged her shoulders.