"Of your husband, yes," Bulstrode found himself startled into betrayal.
She drew her hands from him and walked on a little in the sunshine, and he followed by her side.
"I don't mind," she permitted, "you're such a perfect dear. I shouldn't mind at all if I thought that the confidence were a good one."
Her tone was light and cool, but the gentleman never failed to notice when the Duchess spoke of the Duke that there was a tremor under her words, a warmth, an agitation, which she vainly tried to control.
"Confidences," she said, "are very rarely just, you know, and les absents ont toujours tort."
"Oh, you don't mean...?" Jimmy emphasized.
"It was a confidence, wasn't it?"
"A real one," she was assured.
"Well then, you'll keep it, of course."
She drew the stole up round her long fair neck; her delicate head came out of the soft fur like a flower. But before she could follow up her words Bulstrode said: