“But of course you’re free!” exclaimed the Countess. “Absolutely free, dear child. I regret not having allowed you to go out this afternoon with M. Popeau and your old friend, Captain Stuart, but I did not think you would like to do what English people do at Monte Carlo on Sundays.”
“I did not want to go to the Casino,” said Lily, firmly. “But I do want to join the tennis club, and to have a good game now and again. I suppose you know some lady who would put me up, Aunt Cosy?”
The Countess hadn’t the slightest idea of what Lily meant by being “put up,” but she nodded amiably.
“Oh, yes,” she said, “I will certainly find some lady. Meanwhile your Uncle Angelo will take you down to Monte Carlo to-morrow morning, just to show you the way. He has purchases to make, and he will be able to see about the tennis. It is, so I understand, quite a young girl’s game.”
“That Parisian asked me to lunch to-morrow; he desired Lily to come too,” interposed the Count.
“Oh, I do not think you can do that, my friend,” said the Countess decidedly. “I wish you to help with several important matters to-morrow. You can go some other day.”
“He and the Englishman are going away to Italy for a few days.”
“Are they indeed?” said the Countess, indifferently. She hesitated—“I would like to ask you what is perhaps a very indiscreet question, my sweet child,” and she fixed her bright, differently-coloured eyes full on Lily.
“Yes, Aunt Cosy?” The girl looked up.
“I suppose you are not what is called in England ‘engaged’?” asked Aunt Cosy, very deliberately.