The young girl stepped out of the boat. Her gay, sunny air returned.
"I have been taking a lesson in obedience, Uncle," she said. "The Duke of Dorset has made me see how wise older people are, and how we ought to follow the plan of life they make for us, and how we ought not to set our whims against their reason."
A smile flitted over the old man's face like sunlight over gun metal.
"I am very much obliged to the Duke of Dorset," he said.
CHAPTER VIII—THE WOMAN ON THE WALL
Caroline was dressing. The Marchesa sat with her elbows on the Buhl table; her chin in her palm; her eyes following the young girl, being prepared, under the maid's hands, for the Oban ballroom. Evening had descended. The curtains were drawn. The salon was softly lighted. The Marchesa was seeking for the girl's impression of the Duke of Dorset.
"You are disappointed, then," said the Marchesa.
The girl laughed, her soft voice rippling like a brook.