"It makes me happy to know you understand—that there is some one of my kin. Oh! I have been very lonely since grandmamma died!"
He looked at me long, and we neither of us spoke.
"It was a very cruel turn of fate that we did not meet this time last year," he said at last.
"Yes."
"Comtesse, I want to make your life happier. I want to introduce you to several nice women I know. I shall have a big party next month. Will you come and stay again? Then you will gradually get a pleasant society round you, and you need not trouble about the Dodds and the Springers—no, Springle was their name, wasn't it?"
"Yes. It is so kind of you, all this thought for me. Oh, Sir Antony, I have nothing to say!" I faltered.
He frowned.
"Do not call me Sir Antony, child. It hurts me. You must not forget we are cousins. You are Ambrosine to me, or my dearest little Comtesse."
The clock struck half-past six. The servants entered the room to take the tea-things away, and while they were there a footman brought in three telegrams, one for me and two for my host.
Mine was from Augustus, and ran: