“No. For the present I must say nothing. It will get into the papers soon enough, I expect, for the public gaze is as acute upon a fashionable woman as upon a prime minister in these days of scurrilous journalism and irresponsible personal paragraphs,” she answered rather sadly.
I felt sorry for her, but I knew that the open manner in which she had carried on flirtation had been a public scandal, and after all I was not really surprised that at last Fyneshade should resolve to end it.
“When did he leave?” I inquired.
“Four days ago. I have not been out since, and am at my wits’ ends how to act so as to allay any suspicions of the servants. He took his valet with him.”
“But why make me your confidant?”
“Because I want you, if you will, to render me one small service,” she answered with deep earnestness. Then after a pause, during which time she took down a feather hand-screen and held it between her face and the fire, she said: “I have already heard that Jack and Dora are together again, and—”
“And you desire to part them,” I hazarded seriously.
“No, I think you misjudge me,” she answered with a winning smile. “I am merely anxious that my sister should not make a disastrous marriage.”
“Then you think marriage with Bethune would prove disastrous?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” she answered, sighing. “Already I know what transpired at the interview between Jack and Francis Markwick on the day of the former’s arrival at Wadenhoe.”