She smiled; yet there came to her a sharp, bitter memory of the night on
the balcony when she had been jealous of the ideal woman, the unknown
love whom Norman had sketched for her.
The duke, however, was pertinacious; he could not give up the subject.
"You told me," he resumed, "that she was the daughter of an old friend
of yours named Dornham--and it seems to me, Philippa, that I have some
kind of remembrance of that name which is far from pleasant."
With an air of resignation the duchess rose from her seat.
"I am tired, Vere," she said, "quite tired of the subject. Yet I ought
not to be selfish. Of course, the incident is all new to you--you have
been away from all kinds of news; to us it is an old, worn-out story.
Lord Arleigh and I quarreled and parted because of his marriage, so you
may imagine it is not a very attractive subject to me."
"Well, I will say no more about it, but I am sincerely sorry, Philippa.
Of all our friends, I like Lord Arleigh best; and I shall decidedly
refuse to quarrel with him. His marriage is his own affair, not mine."
"Still, you cannot make a friend of the man whom I decline to know," she
rejoined, hurriedly.
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