"No? Is that meant to be cruel?"
Her right arm lay along the top of the settee; her small hand was near to him; as he looked away from her face he saw it—the black velvet bracelet, the slack fine fingers. It was her right hand he had kissed once in Paris.
"I will tell you why Miss Chressham wants to see my lord," said the Countess.
He flushed quickly.
"It does not involve me, and if she does not herself inform me——"
Lady Lyndwood interrupted.
"But it involves me, and is hardly so private, since it is already in the Gazette."
"In the Gazette?"
"You have not seen it? I dare swear that you are the only one in town who has not."
Her keen eyes marked his ill-concealed agitation, and her mouth hardened.