"I don't know, I'm sure,
what Mr. Ferdinand and Gustavus will think. Still I've given strict
orders that they are to be let in. What else could I do?"
He gazed at Lady Enid in a demanding manner.
"What else could I possibly do under the circumstances?" he repeated.
"Sit down, dear Mr. Vivian," she answered, with her peculiar Scotch
lassie seductiveness, "and tell me, your sincere friend, what the
circumstances are."
Unluckily her curiosity had led her to overdo persuasion. That cooing
interpolation of "your sincere friend"--too strongly honeyed--suddenly
recalled the Prophet to the fact that Lady Enid was not, and could never
be, his confidante in the matter that obsessed him. He therefore sat
down, but with an abrupt air of indefinite social liveliness, and
exclaimed, not unlike Mr. Robert Green,--
"Well, and how are things going with you, dear Lady Enid?"
She jumped under the transition as under a whip.
"Me! But--these parties you were telling me about?"
But the Prophet remembered his oath. He was a strictly honourable little
man, and never swore carelessly.
"Parties!" he said. "You and I are too old friends to waste our life in
chattering about such London nonsense.
Pages:
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124