"It is no foolish fancy, Lucille. You will find that out before
long. You have been cold to me all your life. Yet you would find
me a better friend than enemy."
"If I am to choose," she said steadily, "I shall choose the latter."
"As you will," he answered. "In time you will change your mind."
The carriage had stopped. The Prince alighted and held out his
hand. Lucille half rose, and then with her foot upon the step she
paused and looked around.
"Where are we?" she exclaimed. "This is not Dorset House."
"No, we are in Grosvenor Square," the Prince answered. "I forgot
to tell you that we have a meeting arranged for here this evening.
Permit me." But Lucille resumed her seat in the carriage.
"It is your house, is it not?" she asked.
"Yes. My house assuredly."
"Very well," Lucille said. "I will come in when the Duchess of
Dorset shows herself at the window or the front door--or Felix, or
even De Brouillae."
The Prince still held open the carriage door.
"They will all be here," he assured her. "We are a few minutes
early."
"Then I will drive round to Dorset House and fetch the Duchess.
It is only a few yards."
The Prince hesitated. His cheeks were very white, and something
like a scowl was blackening his heavy, insipid face.
"Lucille," he said, "you are very foolish.
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