THE QUEEN'S JESTER
The chosen corner certainly had the advantage of privacy. It was an alcove at the end of one of the long narrow passages in which the ancient hostelry abounded, and the only light it boasted filtered through a square aperture in the wall which once had held a window. Through this aperture the curious could spy into the hall below, which just then was thronged with dancers who were crowding out of the ballroom and drifting towards the refreshment-room, the entrance to which was also visible.
An ancient settee had been placed in this coign of vantage, and upon this they established themselves by mutual consent.
The man was laughing a little below his breath. "I feel like a refugee," he said.
His companion leaned her arms upon the narrow row sill and gazed downwards. "A refugee from boredom?" she suggested. "We are all that, more or less."
"I dispute that," he said at once. "It is only the bores who are ever bored."
"And I dispute that," she replied, without turning, "of necessity, in self-defence."
He leaned forward to catch the light upon her profile. "You are bored?"
She smiled faintly in the gloom. "That is why I have engaged the services of a jester."
"By Jove," he said, "I'm glad you pitched on me."