"I wish to confide in you,—if I may."
"Confidences are always interesting—especially in the country!"
"Duchess, I—I—have a confession to make."
"A confession, sir? Then I needn't pretend to work any longer—besides, I always prick myself. There!" And rolling the very small piece of embroidery into a ball, she gave it to Barnabas. "Pray sir, hide the odious thing in your pocket. Will you sit beside me? No? Very well—now, begin, sir!"
"Why, then, madam, in the first place, I—"
"Yes?"
"I—that is to say,—you—must understand that—in the first place—"
"You've said 'first place' twice!" nodded the Duchess as he paused.
"Yes—Oh!—Did I? Indeed I—I fear it is going to be even harder to speak of than I thought, and I have been nerving myself to tell you ever since I started from London."
"To tell me what?"