第57章 CHAPTER XXIX(1)

You spoke, my dear Lucille," the Duchess of Dorset said, "of your departure. Is not that a little premature?"

Lucille shrugged her beautiful shoulders, and leaned back in her corner of the couch with half-closed eyes. The Duchess, who was very Anglo-Saxon, was an easy person to read, and Lucille was anxious to know her fate.

"Why premature?" she asked. "I was sent for to use my influence with Reginald Brott. Well, I did my best, and I believe that for days it was just a chance whether I did not succeed. However, as it happened, I failed. One of his friends came and pulled him away just as he was wavering. He has declared himself now once and for all. After his speech at Glasgow he cannot draw back. I was brought all the way from America, and I want to go back to my husband."

The Duchess pursed her lips.

"When one has the honour, my dear," she said, "of belonging to so wonderful an organisation as this we must not consider too closely the selfish claims of family. I am sure that years ago I should have laughed at any one who had told me that I, Georgina Croxton, should ever belong to such a thing as a secret society, even though it had some connection with so harmless and excellent an organisation as the Primrose League."

"It does seem remarkable," Lucille murmured.

"But look what terrible times have come upon us," the Duchess continued, without heeding the interruption. "When I was a girl a Radical was a person absolutely without consideration. Now all our great cities are hot-beds of Socialism and - and anarchism. The whole country seems banded together against the aristocracy and the landowners. Combination amongst us became absolutely necessary in some shape or form. When the Prince came and began to drop hints about the way the spread of Socialism had been checked in Hungary and Austria, and even Germany, I was interested from the first.

And when he went further, and spoke of the Society, it was I who persuaded Dorset to join. Dear man, he is very earnest, but very slow, and very averse to anything at all secretive. I am sure the reflection that he is a member of a secret society, even although it is simply a linking together of the aristocracy of Europe in their own defence, has kept him awake for many a night."

Lucille was a little bored.

"The Society," she said, "is an admirable one enough, but just now I am beginning to feel it a little exacting. I think that the Prince expects a good deal of one. I shall certainly ask for my release to-night."

The Duchess looked doubtful.

"Release!" she repeated. "Come, is that not rather an exaggerated expression? I trust that your stay at Dorset House has not in any way suggested an imprisonment."

"On the contrary," Lucille answered; "you and the Duke have been most kind. But you must remember that I have home of my own - and a husband of my own."

"I have no doubt," the Duchess said, "that you will be able to return to them some day. But you must not be impatient. I do not think that the Prince has given up all hopes of Reginald Brott yet."

Lucille was silent. So her emancipation was to be postponed. After all, it was what she had feared. She sat watching idly the Duchess's knitting needles. Lady Carey came sweeping in, wonderful in a black velvet gown and a display of jewels almost barbaric.

"On my way to the opera," she announced. "The Maddersons sent me their box. Will any of you good people come? What do you say, Lucille?"

Lucille shook her head.

"My toilette is deficient," she said;, "and besides, I am staying at home to see the Prince. We expect him this evening."

"You'll probably be disappointed then," Lady Carey remarked, "for he's going to join us at the opera. Run and change your gown.

I'll wait."

"Are you sure that the Prince will be there?" Lucille asked.

"Certain."

"Then I will come," she said, "if the Duchess will excuse me."

The Duchess and Lady Carey were left alone for a few minutes. The former put down her knitting.

"Why do we keep that woman here," she asked, "now that Brott has broken away from her altogether?"

Lady Carey laughed meaningly.

"Better ask the Prince," she remarked.

The Duchess frowned.

"My dear Muriel," she said, "I think that you are wrong to make such insinuations. I am sure that the Prince is too much devoted to our cause to allow any personal considerations to intervene."

Lady Carey yawned.

"Rats!" she exclaimed.

The Duchess took up her knitting, and went on with it without remark.

Lady Carey burst out laughing.