Part 47 (2/2)

”What night?”

”The night you struck--”

”The Russian--but you thought I was _him_ then.”

”Perhaps,” said she, dreamily, ”but, I thought it was unlike him--do you understand?”

”I don't know. I understand nothing but that I have got you to care for always, to wors.h.i.+p, to lay myself down for you to trample on.”

”Good-night,” said she at last.

She was standing, preparing to go. ”The family know the truth, at least they are sure of the truth, but, as you say, they can do nothing.

Imagine their feelings when I tell them what we have agreed on! With me on your side they are absolutely helpless.”

There is, fortunately enough, no law preventing two married people being re-married, privately; the good old lawyers of England considering, no doubt, that a man having gone through the ceremony once would think it enough.

All this that I have been telling you happened some years ago, years marked by some very practical and brilliant speeches in the House of Lords and the death of the Hon. Venetia Birdbrook from liver complaint.

It is a queer story, but not queerer than the face of the Dowager Countess of Rochester when she reads in private all the nice complimentary things that the papers have to say about her son.

THE END

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