“And, Miss Constance, may I offer you my felicitations?”
“Y—y——” The word was never completed, for Constance fell to the ground.
As the Count hurried with the crowd to assist the swooning girl, a strong arm took his, and a firm voice whispered in her ear. “Your place is not here; it is with your sister in the theatre.”
Rabelais turned towards the young man with the eyes of a frightened ape, and slunk away.
In a few minutes Bromley had lifted Constance into her carriage, and, with Florence and Lady Coxe, was driving towards London.
The skirts had much contracted for the occasion.
“Did ’e tell any one but you?” asked Lady Coxe, in an anxious whisper.
“No one.”
“Then, for ’eaven’s sake, don’t breathe it to Sir Joshphat, and take the carriage on for Dr Leadbitter.”
Bromley bowed reassuringly, and hurried on, in the family coach, to Bedford Square.