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Updated: June 15, 2025
"I was not thinking of you," she told him reproachfully. "I am sorry, Julien. I should not have said that." "It was the truth," he confessed, "absolutely the truth. Still, I have never blamed Mrs. Carraby for my disasters. It was my own asinine simplicity. Tell me, when shall I see you again? I think I ought to leave you here." She laughed. "You want to know about my interview with mother?
I believe that I can serve my country, and it is the life for which I am best fitted. Carraby may have his good points, but his ambitions have been a little too extensive. He would have made a better mayor of the town where he was born." "You are right," she declared. "There is no place for such men in the great world. You will go back. It is written.
Carraby smiled. She stood where the sunlight touched her brown hair and her quiet, pale face. She was one of those women who are never afraid of the light. Her face was of that strange, self-contained nature, colorless, apparently, yet capable of strange and rapid changes. Just now the last glow of sunlight seemed to have found a skein of gold in her hair, a queer gleam of light in her eyes.
I really don't suppose that I ought to show my face here at all. I have simply come to say good-bye. There is just a single word that I want to say to Anne." "Tell me, Julien," she demanded, "you really did write that letter to Mrs. Carraby?" "I did." "And she gave it to her husband?" "Yes!" For once the Duchess was perfectly and delightfully natural.
"Then she's going to have a pretty rocky time," Lady Anne decided. "I don't understand much about politics, but I know it's no use putting a tradesman into the Foreign Office. He's wobbly already, and as for Mrs. Carraby well, I don't know if she ever went on with you like it, Julien, but you remember Bob Sutherland the one in the Guards, I mean? well, she's going an awful pace with him."
"Really, Julien," declared Kendricks, "I am beginning to have hopes of you. There are times when you are almost bright." "What are you here for?" Julien asked. "Is there anything wrong in London?" "Anything wrong!" Kendricks growled. "You and your foolish letters, Julien! You left the way open for that little bounder Carraby and he'll do for us. Lord, how they love him in Berlin!"
Julien was still motionless. "Well?" she began. He drew a little breath. He was beginning to regain his self-possession. "My dear Mrs. Carraby," he said, "with your wonderful knowledge of the world and its ways, will you permit me to point out that your presence here is a little embarrassing to me and might, under certain circumstances, be a good deal more embarrassing to you?" Mrs.
Carraby is trying to suggest in English circles that I have been using my influence over here against the present government. The absurd part of it is that although I have been in France for a month, I arrived in Paris only yesterday." "I was not alluding to that at all," she said.
She shivered a little as his fingers touched hers, although her eyes still besought him. The vestiaire was standing by with her lace coat. She rose slowly to her feet. "To the Rue Royale," she decided. "To-night I have no fancy for the Montmartre." Mrs. Carraby advanced into the library of the great house in Grosvenor Square.
Mrs. Carraby raised her eyebrows. "Why, I've heard it said that those letters are the one hope this country has! I have heard it said that but for those letters France and England would be as far apart to-day as they ever were. I heard it said only this afternoon that those letters were our only hope of peace. They were compared with the letters of Junius, whoever he was.
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