“My poor child!” He patted her arm, soothingly. There are phases of his patronage which are healing. One absorbs his condescension gratefully, as a penitent receiving absolution from a holy cardinal. “You see, your marriage was a family arrangement, and your husband is uncertain of your affections. This regrettable incident has convinced him—wrongly—that from your point of view it is merely a mariage de convenance. His flirtation is a harmless one. He is, I dare swear, eating his heart out! But the pride of the Dillons has him by the throat. My dear little lady—leave him to me!”
She looked up to him wonderingly again; but, with something of the touching confidence of a child, permitted him to conduct her Strandward.
“Captain O’Hagan! I could never, never explain to him! That is why I dare not speak! He would never forgive me for seeing him again—would never understand——”
“Leave it entirely in my hands! I will do the explaining! Simply accept my explanation, and decline in any way to enlarge upon it. You shall not be compromised, because I know you do not deserve it. Neither shall that hare-brained husband of yours compromise another girl out of mere pique.”
She said nothing to that. In the Strand, opposite the Novelty:
“That is your car yonder?” asked O’Hagan.
“Oh! don’t let Priestman see me!” cried Lady Dillon. “I was afraid he would see me when I spoke to that wretch at the door!”
“You are perfectly certain that your husband is in the theatre?”
“Yes! yes! I don’t know why I asked that man! But, indeed, I don’t know what possessed me at all! Oh! Captain O’Hagan, I am so miserable!”
“Boy!” said O’Hagan to a passing urchin—“tell the chauffeur of the Rolls Royce yonder, to pull around here!”