Pollyooly said nothing. She looked at him with enquiring eyes.
"Suppose she goes and recognises that you aren't Marion?"
"I don't see why she should any more than any one else," said Pollyooly in a reassuring tone.
"Oh, but, hang it! She's seen a lot of Marion. She's known her ever since she was a baby," said the duke with a harassed air.
Pollyooly could have set his mind at rest by assuring him that during her last stay at the court Lady Salkeld had not shown the slightest tendency to recognise that she was not Lady Marion Ricksborough; but she did not. She only said:
"I don't suppose that she'll take much notice of me."
"There is that. She pretty well thinks of nothing but her own affairs," said the duke more hopefully.
"Anyhow, it's no use worrying about it. I expect it'll be all right," said Pollyooly in a comforting tone.
The duke was so far reassured by her careless serenity as presently to resume his easy conversation with her. That evening, since he was dining alone, he sent for her to come to him at dessert, and talked to her again. His was a sociable nature; and in view of the presence of her and the Lump he had not invited any friends to relieve the loneliness of his stay at the court.
Lady Salkeld arrived in time for lunch next day; and at lunch Pollyooly and the Lump met her. The duke was on tenterhooks, needlessly, for she bestowed a tepid kiss on Pollyooly, tapped the cheek of the Lump even more tepidly, and addressed herself peaceably to her lunch.