“The duke had no thought,” I began, “but that”
“Oh, I meant between mother and daughter,” said the duchess. “The mother gets the diamonds from my husband; the daughter, it seems, Mr. Aycon, is likely to get respectability from you; and I suppose they will share the respective benefits when this trouble has blown over.”
It was no use to be angry with her; to confess the truth, I felt that anger would come ill from me. So I did but say very quietly:
“I think you are wrong. Mlle. Delhasse knew nothing of her mother’s device.”
“You do not deny all of what I say,” observed the duchess.
“Mlle. Delhasse,” I returned, “is in no need of what you suggest; but I hope that she will be my wife.”
“And some day,” said the duchess, “you will see the necklace—or perhaps that would not be safe. Madame will send the money.”
“When it happens,” said I, “on my honor, I will write and tell you.”
The duchess, with a toss of her head which meant “Well, I’m right and you’re wrong,” rose from her seat.
“I must take poor Armand home,” said she. “M. de Berensac is going with me. Will you accompany us?”
“If you will give me a delay of one hour, I will most willingly.”
“What have you to do in that hour, Mr. Aycon?”
