Banner, the aunt and chaperon of Lady Mary Sligo, the
prettiest of the season's _debutantes_.
"Is that man going to marry the beautiful girl I saw on the box-seat of
his coach the other day?" asked Joyselle, suddenly.
"I daresay. His mother died last month and left him pots of money.
Marmalade-pots--Peet's Peerless." After a moment Carron pursued, drawing
lines on the tablecloth with a fruitknife: "I have a very fine
violin--left me by my grandfather. It is a Strad, I believe. I wonder if
you'd care to see it?"
Joyselle pursed up his lips. "I should, but I warn you, it is probably
an imposture. Most cherished violins are--that are in the hands of
non-players."
"No doubt, but Sarasate has played on this one, and he believed it to be
genuine."
"Aha! When may I come?"
Carron named a near day, and then they went upstairs. He had obtained
his immediate object, and now there remained to him that evening a far
more difficult task.
Brigit was sitting by the window, fanning herself with a fan made of
eagle-feathers. She wore white and looked very tired.
"May I sit down here, Brigit?"
She turned at his voice, and then stared at him. "You look very ill,"
she said abruptly, "is your heart all right?"
Her face did not change as she spoke, and there was no friendliness in
her tone, but he thanked God that he was, and looked, ill.
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