In spite, however, of her well-expressed anxiety, Vivian had his own ideas on the subject; and, determined to unravel the affair, he had recourse to the Marchioness.
“I hope your Ladyship is well to-day. I had a letter from Count Caumont this morning. He tells me that he has got the prettiest poodle from Paris that you can possibly conceive! waltzes like an angel, and acts proverbs on its hind feet.”
Her Ladyship’s eyes glistened with admiration.
“I have told Caumont to send it me down immediately, and I shall then have the pleasure of presenting it to your Ladyship.”
Her Ladyship’s eyes sparkled with delight.
“I think,” continued Vivian, “I shall take a ride to-day. By-the-bye, how is the Marquess? he seems in low spirits lately.”
“Oh, Mr. Grey! I do not know what you have done to him,” said her Ladyship, settling at least a dozen bracelets; “but, but—”
“But what?”
“He thinks; he thinks.”
“Thinks what, dear lady?”