Chapter 17

           ItmusthavebeenaboutaweekortendaysafterthePrinceofWales’sLevéethatIhadthestrangescenewithSibylEltonIamabouttorelate;ascenethatleftapainfulimpressiononmymindandshouldhavebeensufficienttowarnmeofimpendingtroubletocomehadInotbeentooegotisticaltoacceptanyportentthatpresagedilltomyself.ArrivingatLordElton’shouseoneevening,andascendingthestairstothedrawing-roomaswasnowmyusualcustom,unannouncedandwithoutceremony,IfoundDianaChesneytherealoneandintears.

           "Why,what’sthematter?"Iexclaimedinarallyingtone,forIwasonveryfriendlyandfamiliartermswiththelittleAmerican—"You,ofallpeopleintheworld,havingaprivate‘weep’!Hasourdearrailwaypapa‘bustup’?"

           Shelaughed,atriflehysterically.

           "Notjustyet,youbet!"sheanswered,liftingherweteyestomineandshowingthatmischiefstillsparkledbrightlyinthem—"There’snothingwrongwiththefundsasfarasIknow.I’veonlyhada——well,asortofrumpusherewithSibyl."

           "WithSibyl?"

           "Yes,"—andsherestedthepointofherlittleembroideredshoeonafootstoolandlookedatitcritically—"Youseeit’stheCatsup’s‘AtHome’to-night,andI’minvitedandSibyl’sinvited;MissCharlotteisknockedupwithnursingtheCountess,andofcourseImadesurethatSibylwouldgo.Well,sheneversaidawordaboutittillshecamedowntodinner,andthensheaskedmewhattimeIwantedthecarriage.

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