They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. It was a hoax, it was the only thing possible, until she heard Cathy say, “Let me hold those for you. “To be frank with you, Lady Lescelles, when your brother asked me the other day to be his wife I was under a false impression as regards his relations—with some other person. “What’s wrong?” He asked as she shifted awkwardly.
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