"I've got something important to say to you," the girl went on, when she
realized that Stephen intended to dismiss the subject of the hotel, as
he had dismissed the subject of the interview. "That's the reason I
wired. But I won't speak a word till you've told me what your brother
and the Duchess of Amidon think about you and me."
"There's nothing to tell," Stephen answered almost sullenly. And indeed
there was no news of his Cumberland visit which it would be pleasant or
wise to retail.
Margot Lorenzi's complexion was not one of her greatest beauties. It was
slightly sallow, so she made artistic use of a white cosmetic, which
gave her skin the clearness of a camellia petal. But she had been
putting on rather more than usual since her father's death, because it
was suitable as well as becoming to be pale when one was in deep
mourning. Consequently Margot could not turn perceptibly whiter, but she
felt the blood go ebbing away from her face back upon her heart.
"Stephen! Don't they mean to receive me, when we're married?" she
stammered.
"I don't think they've much use for either of us," Stephen hedged, to
save her feelings. "Northmorland and I have never been great pals, you
know. He's twenty years older than I am; and since he married the
Duchess of Amidon----"
"And her money! Oh, it's no use beating about the bush. I hate them
both. Lord Northmorland has a fiendish, vindictive nature.
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