“I fear not,” said Nell, meekly, and she courtesied low. “I am but an humble player–called Nell Gwyn.”
The Duchess raised herself to her full height.
“Nell Gwyn!” she hissed, and she fairly tore off her veil.
“Your grace’s most humble servant,” said Nell, again courtesying low and gracefully removing her veil.
“This is a trap,” exclaimed the Duchess, as she realized the situation.
“Heaven bless the brain that set it then,” sweetly suggested Nell.
“Your own, minx,” snapped Portsmouth. “I’ll not look at the hussy!” she muttered. She crossed the room and seated herself upon the bench, back to Nell.
“Your grace would be more kind if you knew my joy at seeing you.”
“And why?” asked the Duchess, ironically.
“I would emulate your warmth and amiability,” tenderly responded Nell.