"No; but listen. It's heaven-sent—this mistake, I mean. I only intended to show you alone I could be a man. But now, Daisy, you want to get out of society! I want to get into it. We can do it together—one go in, one get out, like the little man and woman in the cardboard barometer. Let me stay here as Huskinson. You can compromise yourself harmlessly with me, and I can have a good time just for a month or two, just till after Ascot, anyway."
"You will have to see the mosaics!" said Mrs. Verulam.
"I'll bear that. I'll bear anything. The game is worth the candle. Oh yes, it is. And then, after Ascot, I'll vanish—you'll perhaps be dropped. It's a perfect plan. Now, isn't it? Isn't it?"
"Really, it is not bad," said Mrs. Verulam. "Yes, I might get out of the cage through you, and yet preserve my self-respect."
"Of course you might. I say it's heaven-sent."
"Heaven-sent—but Francis!"
This sudden cri de cœur alarmed Chloe for her friend's reason.
"Heaven—Francis!" she said helplessly.
What could such words mean but that poor Daisy's reason was tottering upon its throne?
"The footman who let you in when you arrived! The footman who shall leave my service to-morrow. How to keep his mouth shut! Wait! Did anyone else see you?"