“You want a little brightness and relaxation. Let us go on to the Duchess’s together, and we will waltz—perhaps for the last time.”
Those words fell upon his ears with a terrible significance. Yes, it would be for the last time. In his gloomy state of mind her suggestion commended itself to him. What matter if people gossiped about them? They might surely enjoy one last evening in each other’s society. And how many waltzes they had had together during the past two seasons! Yet this was to be the last—actually the last.
She saw his indecision, and hastened to strengthen her argument.
“Your words to-night, Dudley, have shown me plainly your intention is that we should drift apart. This being the case, you will not, I’m sure, refuse me the favour I ask. You will take me to the Duchess’s. My brougham is below. I told Faulkes to return at eleven,” she added, as she glanced at the clock. “Will you not have one last dance with me, if only as a tribute to the old happiness?” She spoke in the soft and persuasive voice that always charmed him. There were tears in her wonderful eyes.
“I am really in no mood for a ballroom crush,” he answered. “You know that I don’t care for the Penarth set at any time.”
“I know that. But surely you will let me have my own way just once more?”
“Very well,” he answered reluctantly, with a deep sigh. “We will go, if you really wish it.”
“Of course!” she cried gladly. She flung her arms about his neck and kissed him fervently on the lips.
Did she really love him? he wondered. And if she did, why did she act as it was reported that she had acted, flirting outrageously at all times and in all places with men whose companionship was detrimental to any woman’s good name? Why had she been planning for him to marry a girl who was unknown to him? No. He could not understand her in the least.
He touched the bell, and when Parsons came he ordered him to put out his dress-coat and gloves.