The duchess knitted her brow in the effort to recall it, and said:
"No, I can't. Oh, yes! You grumbled at the way my hair was done." Then she added in a tone of triumph, "And I've done it exactly the same ever since; it's done like it now!"
"Something must have upset me, for it looks perfectly ripping," said the duke with warm conviction.
The duchess felt herself blushing under his admiring eyes, and disliked herself very much for doing so.
She rose hastily and said:
"I think I'll go into the garden."
This time the duke let her go. He finished his cigar before he followed her. He found her walking up and down the cedar lawn; and when the moonlight fell on her face, he saw that it was troubled.
He fell into step beside her and said with enthusiasm:
"It's a ripping night."
She said nothing; and they crossed the lawn and turned.