I did not think it necessary to say anything about my connection with the lady of Soho Square.
While Lady Harrington was making up a rubber at whist, she asked me if I had any other letters for ladies.
“Yes,” said I, “I have one which I intend to present to-morrow. It is a singular letter, being merely a portrait.”
“Have you got it about you?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“May I see it?”
“Certainly. Here it is.”
“It is the Duchess of Northumberland. We will go and give it her.”
“With pleasure!”
“Just wait till they have marked the game.”