What bad luck that the Roquemartines had selected
that particular duchess for this particular house party, when they must
know plenty, and could just as well have chosen another specimen!
"I have heard her name," I admitted, primly. And so I had, too often. "A
friend of mine was--was with her, once."
"As her maid?"
"Not exactly."
"Another sort of servant, I suppose?"
As her ladyship stated this as a fact, rather than asked it as a
question, I ventured to refrain from answering. Fortunately she didn't
notice the omission, as her thoughts had jumped to another subject. But
mine were not so readily displaced. They remained fastened to the
Duchesse de Melun; and while Lady Turnour talked, I was wondering
whether I could successfully contrive to keep out of the duchess's way.
She is quite intimate with Cousin Catherine; and I told myself that she
was pretty sure already to have heard the truth about my disappearance.
Or, if even with her friends, Cousin Catherine clings to
conventionalities, and pretends that I'm visiting somewhere by her
consent, people are almost certain to scent a mystery, for mysteries are
popular.
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