Her face was so girlish, her eyes so sweet, her humility so sudden, that her companion found himself embarrassed and could hardly find words to say good-by to her. She went on to say, in a tone so low that he bent a little over the dial to hear her. "You told me you could not advise my husband to come to me."
Ah, had he! It was hard to remember that. Had he said so?
"I think," she whispered, "you need not keep him away now, if he should want to come."
As her friend said nothing, she added in a voice more like a child than a great Duchess, "You may trust me. I want him to come— There, I've said it. I hope he'll come. If he doesn't—
"Why, then, you'll go away," he finished. "You can't bear it."
The Duchess shook her head. "I'll go to him, on the contrary."
"You were going?"
"Yes, when you came."
He cried out: "Oh, I'm off then, I'm off for London, and I shan't be back for the Christmas holidays. You may count on me."
The Duchess smiled delightfully, and was in a second the elusive woman, intangible, and impossible to seize.