“I swear to you.”
“Ah, then I will trust you—forever—for ever,” cried the actress, flinging herself into the arms of the astonished Duke and laying her head on his shoulder.
He was much more astonished when a voice rang through the studio:
“Wretch! Infamous wretches both!”
“Oh, Lud!” cried Mrs. Barry, forsaking her resting place and standing a yard or two apart. “Oh, Lud, who is the plain little woman that has been eavesdropping? I vow, Duke, she was not invited to our meeting.”
“Infamous creature! I am the Duchess of Marlborough!”
“Nay, that were impossible. I happen to know that the Duchess has a limitless faith in the Duke, especially in regard to so plain a creature as Mistress Barry, and you have the face and bearing of a jealous woman. Her Grace of Marlborough would not be jealous, my good creature.”
“Madam,” said the Duke, turning to his wife, “madam, you have played an unworthy part—spying—”
“Silence, libertine!” thundered the Duchess, looking like a fury.