“At least,” she said, “I think that the poor man has a right to receive his congé from you. You cannot break with him without a word of explanation. Perhaps—you may not find it so easy as it seems.”
Lucille swept around.
“What do you mean?”
Lady Carey shrugged her shoulders.
“You are in a curious mood, my dear Lucille. What I mean is obvious enough. Brott is a strong man and a determined man. I do not think that he will enjoy being made a fool of.”
Lucille was indifferent.
“At any rate,” she said, “I shall not see him. I have quite made up my mind about that.”
“And why not, Countess?” a deep voice asked from the threshold. “What have I done? May I not at least know my fault?”
Lady Carey rose and moved towards the door.
“You shall have it out between yourselves,” she declared, looking up, and nodding at Brott as she passed. “Don’t fight!”