"And godmother," I said.
"And godmother," she repeated, "willing to give you a helping hand."
"When you became my godmother," I said slowly (oh, I know I was very rude, but I could not quite help myself), "you promised for me, did you not, that I should not love the world?"
The Duchess gazed at me out of her round, good-humoured brown eyes.
"We all know just what that means," she said.
"No, we do not," I answered. "I think very few people do know or realise it in the very least. Now stepping back again might mean the world; perhaps mother and I would rather stay where we are."
As I spoke I got up impatiently and walked to one of the windows, and just then I saw Mr. Randolph coming up the steps. As a rule he was seldom in to lunch; he was an erratic individual, always sleeping in the house, and generally some time during the day having a little chat with mother, but for the rest he was seldom present at any of our meals except late dinner. Why was he coming to lunch to-day? I heard his step on the stairs, he had a light, springy step, the drawing-room door opened and he came in.
"Ah, Jim," said the Duchess, "I scarcely expected to see you here."
She got up and held out her hand; he grasped it. I thought his face wore a peculiar expression. I am not quite certain about this, for I could not see him very well from where I was standing, but I did notice that the Duchess immediately became on her guard. She dropped his hand and turned to mother.
"I met Mr. Randolph last year in Italy," she said.