“Where is she?” demanded the young physician, gazing round him on every side, as though his head were rotary.
“Just gone up this way with her son.”
“Who? What son?”
“Why, the Duchess of Lachaunay. That’s what caused the rush; her toilet is by Worth, and cost twenty thousand francs.”
“Hang the duchess!” groaned Bertie. “I have lost sight of the loveliest girl I ever laid eyes on.”
“Where was she?”
“There, right in front of me.”
“Never mind. Take heart of grace. We’ll pick her up by and by. Let’s get our seats or we’ll forfeit them.”
“You go, uncle. I’ll do as I am, I think I’ll walk about.”
Kirwan looked at his nephew with a merry glance.