He rose, casting off all reserve at last, and his pleasant voice was thickened by the stress of his emotions.
“You behold in me a man exerting vast power for good and ill. There are in life few things, however great, that I desire without being able to command them. Sylvia Farquharson is one of these few things. With affectations of prudery this wanton keeps me on the rack. That is where I require your help.”
He paused. The Colonel stared at him round-eyed. A faint colour stirred in his haggard cheeks. At last he spoke, in a voice that was cold and level.
“Your grace has hardly said enough.”
“Dullard! What more is to be said? Don’t you understand that I mean to make an end of this situation?—to conquer the prudish airs with which this wanton jade repels me?”
“Faith! I think I understand that well enough.” Holles laughed a little. “What I don’t understand is my part in this—a doxy business of this kind. Will not your grace be plain?”
“Plain? Why, man, I want her carried off for me.”
They sat conning each other in silence now, the Colonel’s face utterly blank, so that the Duke looked in vain for some sign of how he might be taking this proposal. At last his lips curled in a rather scornful smile, and his voice drawled with a mildly humorous inflection.
“But in such a matter your grace’s own vast experience should surely serve you better than could I.”
In his eagerness, the Duke took him literally, never heeding the sarcasm.