“No, I do not think so ill of you, but I am going to see one whom we both knew when the world was at her feet. To see us together might bring deeper pain to her troubled soul.”
“Your mission,” he said, with deep interest, “is no secret to me. I am here on the same errand. I just met Doane, who was bent on visiting her, with the idea of vengeance.”
“Then you may go with me,” she assented, “and perhaps together we may smooth over the roughness of Doane’s contemptible behavior. But you must agree in advance to back up all I say. Come, we will go together.”
As they approached the house of Ouida, Connors began to think very seriously that Olivia would make a charming life companion, and resolved, then and there, to further cultivate so sweet and strong a personality.
They entered the lodging together, and were more than cordially greeted by Ouida and Horatio.
“Welcome to you both,” said Ouida, “and you especially, Olivia, for you are one of the only two women in New York whose hand I clasp in friendship.”
“This is indeed good of both of you,” said Horatio.
“And I offer you both my complete attachment,” said Mr. Connors.
“In affluence,” said Ouida, “we would not have prided ourselves in the devotion of kings. Today, when stripped of all, save humiliation, your proffer is a consolation preciously dear.”